The Sindariin
by RenkonNairu
Summary: GOLION CONT. Fala is captured by Galra and Sincline forces their marriage before the Golion Team can rescue her. What does this mean for Altea and how will Fala cope with being wed to the sex-obsessed Prince of Galra?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own either Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: In case you have not seen the Japanese Golion anime, things you need to know: This fiction begins in the middle of the third to last episode of the series. Daibazaal (Zarkon in the English ver.) has finally gotten fed-up with Sinceline (Lotor) and arrested him for incompetence. The following attack on Altea (Arus) is then lead by Daibazaal himself and not a laky of any sort. There is no 'Galaxy Alliance' or 'Galaxy Garrison' instead there's something called the 'Leo Alliance' but that has only just recently been formed at this point in the story. Things I am 'retconing' from the Golion series are that Hys (Nanny) did not die (she was shot and killed by a spy pretending to be Raible's (Coran's son) but in this fiction I think I'd rather have her alive and then Earth was not destroyed by World War Three but rather was instead concored by Galra (Doom). I think it would just make more sense and be more relevant to the anime if that had been what happened. That WW III story just seemed so random and out of place in the original.)

The Sindariin

Chapter One:

Daibazall's capitol ship fired another lazer blast at the enormous energy cannon, chipping away at the bedrock on which it was precariously perched. Kurogane counted it a small miracle that the dreaded Galra command ship hadn't hit the cannon directly but still, one more shot to its foundation and it would go tumbling down into the ravine over which it had been placed and then it wouldn't matter whether or not Daibazaal's ship had hit it or not. It would still be lost to them. In retrospect, perhaps the edge of a deep, dark chasm wasn't the wisest place to set up their captured super-weapon but he could worry about that later, now he had to figure out how to save the cannon from certain destruction. Without it they had no hope of breaking the energy field that surrounded the Galran capitol and launching an attack on the heart of the evil empire.

If he could actually get to the cannon Kurogane might manage to take down Daibazaal's capitol ship. If he did that this battle would be won, the Galra ships would retreat and they'd be left with enough peace to plan their attack on the capitol. A capitol which would suddenly be thrown into disarray by the death of their Emperor. The Red Lion pilot attempted to stand and run to the cannon from where he crouched behind the protection of a sizable boulder. Pain lanced through his right leg as he did this, that bit of shrapnel from the first blast had caught him in the calve and impeded his mobility enough to render him utterly useless. He could try and run back the other way, back to Red Lion and join Fala, Seido and Shorty in aerial combat. That way the four of them would be closer together and would be all the more ready to form Golion when Kogane showed up.

Speaking of the Cheif, where the hell was he?

Kurogane, back behind his boulder of protection now, cast his gaze skyward scanning for any sign of Black Lion. Blue Lion, piloted by Altea's own Princess Fala was engaged in some impressive aerial acrobatics with a squad of Galra hook-fighters. Seido, in Yellow Lion was throwing all its earth-based might against the giant Mecha-beastman that Daibazaal had deployed shortly after breaking atmo. Green Lion, piloted by Shorty, was meanwhile buzzing around the command ship systematically taking out its guns until it had nothing to fight with but its one-man fighters and mecha-beastman. But where was Kogane? Where was Black Lion?

Kurogane nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He wheeled around, blaster in hand to face whomever had snuck up on him in the midst of his distraction.

"Whoa there!" A startled Kogane looked back at him, his arms up, his face just as startled as the Red Lion pilot felt.

"Kogane!" Kurogane sagged with relief. "God, I could have _shot_ you!"

"I'm glad you didn't." The Black Lion pilot replied soberly. He cast an appraising glance over at the cannon teetering on the edge of the chasm, up at the battle going on in the skys above them and back down at Kurogane, noting his lame and bloodied leg. "C'mon, the best thing we can do now is form Golion."

Kogane offered his hand to the Red Lion pilot and Kurogane accepted it gladly. With Kogane's help he made it back to his Lion in half the time he thought it would. From inside the cockpit of Red Lion, Kurogane watched Kogane climb into Black Lion and the two were back in the air with their comrades in no time. In his rear view screen, the Red Lion pilot saw one final shot hit the foundation supporting that cannon and it collapsed in to the chasm. So much for their plan of attacking the heart of the Empire. What were they gonna do now?

"Everyone," Kogane's voice crackled over the radio, "we're here. Let's combine."

"'Bout damn time!" Seido's baritone growled in answer.

Red Lion and Balck Lion were quickly joined by Green, Yellow and Blue and the five of them flew up into the planet's stratosphere in an inverted V formation. But before they could combine to form the formidable robot Golion they were attacked by a squad of Galran hook-fighters. They came at the Golion team from the flank, lazers and machine-guns blazing.

"Scatter!" Kogane shouted. "Split-up and give them moving targets. Don't let them get a lock on you!"

The five Lions each flew off in separate directions forcing the squad of enemy fighters to likewise split-up to pursue their quarry. Kurogane inside Red Lion had three of them on his tail as he broke off from the rest of the group but those three were quickly joined by a whole new squad as Daibazaal's capital ship deployed more fighters. Kurogane was hard against his crash safety harness by a blast to the aft of his Lion. He called up a quick schematic of his mech to access the damage. An enemy missile had impacted on the joint of Red Lion's right leg, it would make combining into Golion difficult, but not impossible, he turned his attention back to the battle at hand. Even still, he couldn't help but smile grimly at the irony of both his and Red Lion's right leg being damaged in this battle. Like the ancient samurai of his home world, his weapon was his soul.

A streak of blue on the edge of his peripheral vision drew his attention to Blue Lion being hounded by her own squad of hook-fighters and he swore under his breath. It seemed they were all being mobbed by bright yellow and orange hooked-T shaped fighters so that none of them could fly to each other's or anyone else's aid. And that, Kurogane realized with deadly clarity, was Daibazaal's plan. To keep them all separate, keep them from helping each other, keep them from guarding the castle and most importantly of all, keep them from combining. A sudden panic rose in Kurogane's stomach. What if this time Galra succeeded? Daibazaal, it seemed was a much better strategist than Sincline had ever been. And where was Sincline, by the by?

The Red Lion pilot didn't have time to ponder the absence of one devil, not when he had the other breathing down their collective necks poised to kill them all and re-concore Altea. He slammed on his radio.

"Chief!" He shouted into his transmitter. "We need to regroup! They're making it so we can't do shit!"

"I know, I-" Kogane's reply was interrupted by the sudden sound of a blast and Kurogane's ears were graced with a string of colorful Japanese swears. "Everyone! Converge on this point!" A small blip appeared on a map readout on Red Lion's console. "Be ready to do some fast maneuvering and bring your tails!"

Kurogane pulled up an image of his own squad of Galran 'tails', he examined their formation as best he could while dodging their many lazer, missile and machine-gun blasts. Finally, when he was sure he had found an opening in their line he cut his forward propulsion and kicked it backwards through their lines towards the point Kogane had indicated on his map. He flipped and righted his Lion so that he was actually facing the direction he was flying just as he neared the point and came almost face to face with Yellow Lion. Another wave of panic shook him and he glanced around frantically. Blue Lion and Green Lion were also coming in fast, their hook-fighter pursuers hot on their tails as was Black Lion. All five of them seemed to be on a collision course with each other. So that was it, a game of 'Chicken' then.

Kurogane focused his attention back on his main view-screen and the sight of Yellow Lion bearing down on him and he silently dared Seido to pull up before him. On his flank he saw Blue Lion and Green Lion converging on them quickly too and Black Lion was almost on top of them. Kurogane's blood was pumping in his ears and for one brief moment he feared that this wasn't a game of 'Chicken' but rather a kamikaze, the Divine Wind. Was Kogane trying to destroy the Lions rather than let them fall into Galran hands? Did he think the battle that hopeless?

And then their Cheif's voice crackled over the comm. "Pull up! Everyone pull up!"

Five colored Lions suddenly turned towards the heavens, ascending at almost perfect ninety-degree angles while the Galran fighters that have been dogging them all collided with one another in a spectacular display of pyrotechnic inaneness. They reformed their inverted V formation and once again prepared to form Golion. Red Lion's damaged right hind leg made an awful grinding sound as warped metal scrapped over warped metal to fold the legs in tight to the body. But he still managed to fold into a useable arm.

"Let's Go-Lion!" All five of them shouted in unison.

Unfortunately for the Golion team, no sooner had those words crackled over the comm channels than they were suddenly and abruptly punctuated by a shrill feminine shriek of terror. Apparently, a single fighter had also managed to pull up at the last minuet and escape destruction with his fellows. The lone Galran fighter landed a lucky shot on Blue Lion's flank and she was now falling back down to crash on the planet bellow.

"Fala!" Kogane's panic stricken voice roared over the radio.

"Princess!" Seido and Shorty echoed each other.

All Kurogane could think was, _'Damn it, why is it always Blue Lion?'_

He watched as Blue Lion plummeted earthward, the lone Galran hook-fighter descending after her at a much more controlled pace. Black Lion also broke from formation to fly to the princess' rescue. Two more squads of fighters came in from both the left and right flanks and cut Kogane off from rescuing Blue Lion and its beautiful blond pilot. Kurogane had to wonder just where all the fighters kept coming from. They had already destroyed allot and a single battle ship couldn't hold _that_ many, could it?

"_Fala_!" Kogane cried over the radio as Blue Lion finally impacted on the ground making a rather impressive looking crater where she fell.

The hook-fighters buzzed around her in a holding pattern while the original one whom had shot her down landed. Kurogane watched lamely as the Galran pilot climbed out of his fighter and stalked up to Blue Lion's dust incrusted head.

"Get away from her!" They heard Kogane snarl over their comms. Whether the Galrans were listening to the Altean channels or not didn't seem to matter, the Galran pilot pried open the hatch on top of Blue Lion's head and pulled out an unconscious Princess Fala all the same. Black Lion charged the line of enemy fighters in a vain attempt to break through to his princess in peril but was repelled by sheer force of numbers. Individually the Galran hook-fighters didn't stand a chance against the Lion-mech, Black Lion being able to easily crush one with his massive paw. But with so many it was like being routed by a swarm of killer-bees and Kogane was helpless to do anything more harass the formation and shout into his comm.

One of the Galran fighters must have called the capitol ship to inform Daibazaal that they had managed to capture one of the Lions and its pilot because the massive command ship suddenly appeared in the skys above where Blue Lion had fallen. Kurogane watched as the pilot that held Fala's prone form climbed back into his fighter with the sleeping beauty and ascended back into the air on a course to intercept the command ship.

Kogane's voice crackled over the radio once more passionate and determined. "Run interference! Everyone, don't let that fighter get to the ship! If they get the princess then its all over for Altea!"

Seido, never one to back down from a fight, threw the full force of his Yellow Lion into the shifting wall of hook-fighters that hovered between Princess Fala and the other four Lions. He scattered volleys of his Gatling Missiles into the enemy lines creating enough chaos for Kurogane in his Red Lion and Shorty in his Green Lion to push through to the fighter that carried the princess. But no sooner had they a lock on it then the capitol ship fired its main gun at them, nearly vaporizing the two lions with his high intensity lazer beam. In their effort to dodge certain death the fighter carrying Fala managed to make it to the Galran command ship and land securely in the hangar bay. The ship's sheilds snapped up then, trapping all the fighters that were still deployed outside but more importantly preventing the Lions from any chance of rescuing their princess.

"Son of a bitch!" Kogane swore over the comm.

And all Kurogane could think was, '_Why is it always the princess?'_

_..._

The remaining four Lion pilots met in the Control Room and turned their eyes to the massive view screen that look up most of the forward wall. On it the image of Daibazaal's capitol ship hovered ominously. After capturing the princess the fell Galra Emperor had issued a cease-fire to all his troops still trapped outside the ship. They now hovered in a defense formation around the command ship. Kogane had been more than ready to continue the fight after the cease-fire had been issued from the Galran side. He was gun-ho to blast through their lines and rip open the massive Galran ship with Black Lion's claws in an attempt to reclaim the captured Altean princess. But Raible had ordered them back. The only reason for Daibazaal to order a cease-fire was because he wanted to negotiate and the Altean strategist wanted to know what the Emperor had to say. So he had recalled the Lions and Kogane begrudgingly returned to the castle.

He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping irritably on the immaculate steel paneled floor. "What's taking so damn long?" He snarled. "We shouldn't even be in here. Now's our chance to go in there and rescue her!"

"If Daibazaal wants to negotiate then we should try and negotiate." Raible sternly informed the Black Lion pilot. "The princess would want us to try and resolve this conflict as peaceably as possible. And with the loss of the cannon we no longer have a means of launching an attack against the Empire's capitol."

"I would just like to remind you, Raible..." Kogane began dangerously, "... that Daibazaal has not expressed any such desire to negotiate as you're inferring. And you know as well as I do what kind of terms Daibazaal will demand. He doesn't want to treat with us, he wants to rule us!"

A silent shutter ran through the members of the Golion team. They had all been slaves of the Galra Empire, they knew exactly what it meant to be ruled by Daibazaal and they _never_ wanted to live like that again. They would rather die. It was not a melodramatic statement, there are things in life that are far worse than death and slavery within the Galra Empire was one of those things. All four of the earth-born space pilots would gladly commit ritual suicide if they failed to protect Altea and the Galra Empire was aloud to waltz in and take control.

"I know. I know." The royal strategist admitted soberly. "But even if there's just the sliver of a possibility I have to try. Peaceful solutions are always the best solutions. Altea is not a war-like nation by nature. If Galra wishes for peace than we can try and agree on terms for peace that would be mutually beneficial."

The comm began to buzz and a red light, one among many on the Control Room's main board, began to flash signifying that Castle Gradam was receiving an in-coming call. This went ignored, however as Kogane's low gravely voice commanded their attention muttering more to himself than to anyone else.

"Galra will make corpses of us all."

Raibal really didn't know what to sat to this morbid but entirely plausible prophecy. He may prefer peace and peaceful solutions over violence, but he was not naive and he was not a fool. He had lived through the first Galran invasion of Altea and he knew all to well the sadistic cruelty of the Empire. He understood not just Kogane's but all the Golion team's loathing for Galra and everything about it and he sympathized with it. He himself had lost his wife and infant son to the Galran death-squads during the first terrible invasion. But Princess Fala and the late King Raimon would want him to pursue any and all peaceful avenues whenever possible. The war had already cost Altea many lives. No more of his people's blood needed to be shed over this. The strategist answered the call.

The image of the capitol ship hovering on the main view screen was suddenly replaced with a forward view of the command bridge of the ship in question. A menacing looking Galran glared down at them from the view screen. He was clad in a black tunic and breeches ensemble and draped over one shoulder was a deep red cloak the same shade as blood and atop his bald reptilian brow sat a heavy looking spiked gold crown. It was not other then the fell Emperor of Galra himself, Daibazaal. At his left had stood another villainous figure those gathered knew very well, the occult-science witch Hornerva and behind them both and a little to the right, almost out of frame, was Princess Fala. Conscious now with her helmet removed so that they could clearly see her strained and apprehensive face. But no one saw any sign of Sincline of the bridge and there had been no indication that he'd been present for the battle either. Just what had happened to their frequent and familiar tormenter anyway?

"Is there anyone among you that has the authority to treat with me?" Daibazaal drawled almost lazily as he glared down at them with distain.

Kogane stepped forward, a silent snarl on his lips but Raible held his arm out to hold the Black Lion pilot back lest he say or do anything to end peace talks before they began.

"I am Raible the Strategist." He said. "And in the absence of her Highness, Princess Fala, I act as Steward and ruler of Altea."

Daibazaal glared down at the Strategist, appraising him. If Raible was made uncomfortable by this scrutinous gaze he did not show it outwardly. He remained standing tall and strong, an immovable object to the Galran Emperor's unstoppable force. Behind the fell Galran Emperor, Fala also studied her Steward and guardian. Her eyes taking in his impassive expression and looking past it to see the strained tension behind his eyes. He was worried. Her eyes also swept over the four Lion pilots and lingered significantly longer on Kogane than any of the others. After a prolonged pause Daibazaal spoke.

"I demand the immediate and unconditional surrender of Planet Altea." Silence followed this statement, the Galra Emperor gauging their reactions.

"The hell we will!" Kogane shouted up at the view screen.

Daibazaal seemed unperturbed by the earth-born space pilot's outburst. His eyes remained focused on Raible, as Steward of Altea it was he and not the Golion team who could decide the fate of the planet. The strategist's eyes drifted from the Galran's to focus on the princess visible behind him. Fala said nothing and made no clear motions to indicate what he should do, but her face clearly showed that she would never consent to surrender. She knew as well as Raible did what would happen to the people of Altea should the Empire take over. She could not and would not give her people over to slavery, torture and death.

"We refuse." Raible answered in a calm level voice that was a million times more placid than he actually felt.

The Galran Emperor smiled a cruel smile. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist." He said. "You see, I now hold your princess, the last surviving member of the royal household aboard my ship. If she were to die tragically..." Here he paused for dramatic effect while one of the two soldiers holding her shoved her forward ever so slightly so that Raible and the Golion team could clearly see how utterly powerless she was. "... then your little planet would crumble like a house of cards."

The strategist bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to hide his tension. Though he may not have said it bluntly, Daibazaal's message was clear: 'Fala is my hostage. Surrender and she lives, continue to fight me and she dies.' It was true that if Fala were to die that there wouldn't be anyone to succeed the thrown. But in a war time such as this he could retain power as Steward and _hopefully_ see them through. Then the question of who would lead after the war was over would be raised. But that would be then, this is now. Then there was also the problem of Blue Lion. If Fala were to be killed then not only would Altea be short one monarch but also one of the five pilots that form Golion. True, pilots could be replaced, Fala herself had replaced the original pilot, Shirogane, after he died at the hands of Hornerva the Occult-Science Witch. But there were so few people left with the training and natural ability necessary to pilot a Lion. Before Raible had the chance to say anything in response to the Galran Emperor's veiled threat Kogane snarled out a retort.

"And what would Sincline say if you killed her?"

To this Daibazaal merely laughed. "Sincline will soon no longer be my problem."

That sent a ripple of unease through everyone in the room. Sincline had been the one leading all of Daibazaal's forces for the past two years. He was the Emperor's only son and heir and Daibazaal thought of him as his 'problem'. What's more he heavily implied that said problem would soon be gone which could only mean that the wicked king was planning to kill his own son (if he hadn't done so already). Just what had happened on the Galran home world to drive such a wedge between the Emperor and the Prince Imperial that one would wish the other dead? And what did that mean for Altea? Sincline had been a handful but they were familiar with his tactics, his strengths and his weaknesses (both mental and emotional). He was the devil they knew and the one that they were better prepared to fend off. But if Sincline was no longer the one leading the attacks, if Daibazaal was... Well, they had just seen how much more effective Daibazaal's tactics were compared to his son's and what's more, he didn't have the emotional weakness of fancying himself 'in love' with the princess like Sincline did. Could the Golion team really fend off such a foe?

Once again, before Raible could say anything someone else answered for him. Princess Fala wrenched herself free from one of her guards and launched herself toward the main view screen shouting with all the fire and passion of her very being.

"Do not surrender!" She ordered. "Raible if you surrender Altea I'll kill myself!"

That comment earned her a hard smack across the face from the Galran Emperor and the pilot princess fell to the floor from the force of the blow. Daibazaal towered over her menacingly and for the briefest of moments everyone feared he was going to kill her right then and there. But he did not. Instead he straitened and ordered the two that had previously been restraining her to remove her from the bridge. Or, at least, that's what they assumed he had said; the orders had been given in the Galran language and those of Altea and Earth had no idea what he had really said. For all they knew he could have been ordering them to take her out and shoot her. It was a real possibility and one that Kogane feared might be the reality.

"Where are you taking her?" He demanded.

Daibazaal did not answer the Black Lion pilot's question. Instead he fixed his glare upon Raible once again and said, "I can see that you still need some time to think things over. I will withdraw for now. Your princess shall remain my guest on Galra until you have come to a decision. But I warn you, Steward, I am not a patient man."

And with that, the transmission ended. The screen once again showed the command ship hovering in the atmosphere. Then its engines flared, it ascended from the outer-atmosphere in to space, kicked in its warp-drive and was gone... and Fala with it...

...

(A/N: I'm actually not sure If I'm going to continue this story or not. I'm kinda in the middle of one for a different fandom at the moment and I figure, if I'm gonna be wasting my time on fan fiction, I might as well finish the one I already have started. But I wrote this first chapter anyway and so I wanted to post it just to see what people had to say and if it was ever worth continuing or not. )


	2. Chapter 2

DIsclaimer: I do not own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Two:

The slow stead drip of water from an unseen source was the only sound in the darkness of the prison cell. It was not unlike any of the other prison cells within Demon Castle. It was dark, dank, musty and carved out of the very leaving bedrock on which the prison had been erected. Before the tall towers and gruesome spires had been built in the First Age, the prison's of Demon Castle had been there already. There was no toilet and so the prisoner was forced to relieve himself in a corner like an animal. The scent of living waste wafted about the stagnant air of the room almost unbearably so. A moldy foam mattress had been laid on a narrow cot on the opposite side of the sell, a pathetic excuse for a bed. It was a disgusting and despicable existence within this cell, amid the squaller and deprecation and yet, the room's single occupant refused to give up his pride.

Sincline, _former_ Prince Imperial of the mighty Galra Empire, lay on his moldy mattress on his narrow cot examining the jagged stone ceiling and listening to the phantom dripping of water. It had been days already since his father's guards had barged into his private chambers and none to gently informed him that he was under arrest. And for what? The crime of failure, failure to defeat Golion, failure to recapture Altea, failure to resist his attraction to an enemy leader. And the crime of weakness, his emotional weakness that caused him to make so very many mistakes over the past two years, his weakness against the charms of the young, beautiful, naive princess of Altea. They seemed like such little things when compared to the punishment of incarceration, but for a member of the Royal House of Galra they were unforgivable. Weak failures did not rule the Empire, for the son's of kings weakness and failure were punishable by death.

So why was he still alive, slowly rotting to death in this squalid cell rather then publicly executed with all the theatrics and melodrama befitting a man of his station?

Well, he had Hornerva to thank for that one. After his arrest, when Sincline knelt before the Golden Throne of his forefathers Daibazaal had been more than ready to kill him then. He had even ordered the guards restraining him to escort the fallen prince to the Arena for a public execution so that everyone knew that failure and weakness were not tolerated within the Empire. But just as they were ushering him away the old witch spoke. She reminded the Emperor that the prince still had many supporters on several planets spread through out the Empire. If Daibazaal announced his execution so suddenly it could spark a civil war that would potentially thread the Empire in two before the dreaded Golion ever had the chance to. The Emperor was many things but 'foolish' was not one of them. He would still execute his son but not until after delegates from his supporting planets arrived to witness their preferred sovergngne's death. So now here he was, in a squalid dark cell, a prisoner in one of his own prisons.

But he was not without friends.

Sincline's loyal soldiers, the Red Army, had not been arrested along with him and were even now preparing for not just a prison-break of their prince but also a coup. At least once a day when the guards brought him his daily ration of rotten beastman meat a message would be snuck in to the prince. Details and updates of their plans, overviews of the outside situation, how many could be counted on to support the prince, how many favored the Emperor and most importantly of all Daibazaal's moves. The best time to strike would be just as his father was returning from Altea, Sincline knew. He would be weary from the battle regardless of whether he had won or lost and would be off his guard. If the coup was staged just as he began his journey home then the Prince Imperial could arrest his treacherous father right as the old man stepped off his ship and take control of the Empire in one fell swoop.

The faint echo of footsteps down the corridor drew the prince from his musings. He sat up as they drew louder, coming nearer his cell. It was not yet time for his daily meal, there was no need for anyone to be coming to his cell. Had something happened on Altea? Did they need to step up their plans? A million and one scenarios quickly ran through the prince's mind ranging from the perfectly rational to the utterly ridiculous all within the space of a moment. The guard that had been stationed outside his cell began to inquire as to why the visitor had come but was cut off suddenly and abruptly before Sincline had the chance to overhear the man's name.

"My prince, please step back." General Gibra's voice called to him from through the narrow slitted window in the cell-door.

Sincline was already on the other side of the room sitting on his cot's disgusting old mattress, the General's warning was not necessary. There was the steady humming sound of a lazer-cutter and a moment later the air was filled with the scent of lazon and burning metal. Of course they would have to cut the lock on his cell, quite literally breaking him out of jail. There was only one key to Prince Imperial Sincline's prison cell and Daibazaal had taken it with him to Altea, not trusting any of the guards at the prison with it. But who needed a key when you just as easily break a lock or cut through the door? The lazer-cutter's hum died down and there was the sound of warped metal being stretched and strained and then suddenly the door was ripped from its fame and cast aside into the passageway.

General Gibra, commander of Sincline's own Red Army stood framed in the now open doorway. The prince rose to his feet and the general went to his knees.

"My prince," the General began with his head bowed, "Daibazaal is, as we speak, returning to Galra."

Sincline raised one chalky white eyebrow. That was quicker than he had expected. Had he been leading a mission to Altea it would have taken him twice as long. Had Daibazaal been defeated so easily? Or was his father really just that much better of a tactician than he? The prince felt momentarily inadequate as both a leader and a soldier but the feeling passed and in it's wake he wanted nothing more than to prove his great quality. He was a son of kings capable of great deeds. He would show his father and the Empire that he was not weak, that he was more than worthy to wear the crown and succeed his father as Emperor. And then Gibra spoke again.

"... And he is returning with the Altean princess as his hostage."

"Fala!" Now the prince paused. Daibazaal was returning with her as a hostage? Did he already suspect a coup from him and was taking precautions ahead of time to prevent Sincline's treachery? Princess Fala of Altea was his one true weakness, if the Emperor were to use the threat of slaying her as a deterrent for Sincline's coup would the prince still go through with it? Daibazaal did not usually bother with hostages, preferring instead to kill any possible nuisances before they had the chance to come to head. This changed everything! Now that Fala was involved, Sincline had to move twice as fast and be twice as careful. He could not risk his beloved's well-being. Perhaps he truly was weak, as his father had accused and his weakness would always ultimately lead to his failure. But he could not worry about that now. Now he had to act the part of the confident leader, he had to _be_ a confident leader, lest his fears come to pass.

"How many under my banner?" Asked the prince as he strode out from his cell.

"At least some thousand." Was the General's quick response. He stood and fell into step next to his chosen sovereign.

"And my father...?" One thousand on-planet supporters was good but that meant nothing if Daibazaal was bringing more than that back with him from his campaign on Altea or already had them here on Galra. The number was also meaningless if he, Sincline, couldn't find anyone else in a position of command to back him like Gibra was. The Red Army was loyal to him but they only numbered a little over five-hundered. Was Gibra counting them in that figure of one-thousand? How many Generals and Admirals could Sincline count on to join his cause? How many would fight for his father? And how many of them would sit on their thumbs and wait to see who came out victorious?

"The Reds are taking care of those in the court that support the Emperor's stay in power. He lost quite allot of grunt fighters to the Lions on Altea so we're not expecting much of a fight. His only real supporter now is Hornerva." The General supplied. He opened his mouth as if to speak again but then closed it, thinking better not to ask the prince about the one factor that he thought was their only real problem. Gibra waited for the Prince Imperial to comment on the status of the situation or issue his orders, when he didn't the General assumed he must be contemplating the wrench in their plans, the Altean princess. He once again wondered if he should ask Sincline what he planned to do about her. If Daibazaal used her against the prince to force a surrender then not only Sincline but all those that supported him would also perish under the Emperor's rage. The princess was a problem.

"And what of... his hostage?" The prince finally asked at length.

The General inhaled. It was a bit of a public secret that the Prince Imperial's interest in the Altean princess was deeper than that of a simple conquest. Sincline had a rather extensive harem of pleasure slaves, his 'Collection' as he called them. Before the prince had ever been given command over the Empire's Altean front everyone knew that he would want the beautiful blond princess for his Collection, she was just his type. But after two years of campaigning and hampering himself for fear of hurting her it became painfully apparent to everyone that what Sincline felt for her was not his usual lust but rather _arda_. _Arda_ an intense, almost violent, passion and devotion. The humans had a similar word for it but Gibra did not know it. After a prolonged pause the General remembered that his prince had asked a question and was still waiting for an answer.

"It appears that the Emperor took her for a hostage in an attempt to force a surrender. He wants Altea to submit to him, he doesn't want to destroy the planet if he can avoid it. It doesn't appear that he took her to use against... that he took her for any ulterior motive. He does not yet seem to know about the coup." Gibra had almost said, '...to use against you'. That would have been a fatal mistake. To be aware of the prince's weakness was one thing but to throw it back in his face like that was just plain foolish.

Sincline did not comment on his General's veiled implication that Daibazaal might have brought Fala along as a weapon against him. The thought had already occurred to the prince and he was already thinking up possible solutions to this newest of problems. Instead he asked, "When is the Emperor due to arrive?"

"He sent a message to the palace just as he was leaving. So, we have maybe a few hours to prepare."

...

Sincline's preparations included, but were not limited to, a _very_ long hot shower followed by a steamy luxurious bath. He didn't care that he was limited on time, the prince had just spent several days in his own squalor and was going to cleanse himself of it even if that meant facing the Emperor in nothing more than his sword-belt and a towel. The mental image was amusing to him and he allowed himself a small smile. He leaned back in warm bath-water content in the knowledge that at this very moment his father's supporter's all over the capitol were suddenly having fatal accidents or meeting the wrong people at the wrong place. By the time Daibazaal returned he would find that his power-base had been reduced to only those that had been on the ship with him during his absence. Namely Hornerva. Soon he would have everything he ever wanted, the throne, the Empire, Altea and Fala. Ah, yes, Fala...

For once it would be he that would be her heroic rescuer and not irksome knave, the pilot of Black Lion, Kogane. Finally, she would see that he was a million times better than that filthy slave could ever hope to be and she would fall willingly into his arms. This fantasy he indulged in longer, his smile broadening. Fala would finally be his, he would make her his Empress and she would rule by his side. The Galra Empire had not had many Empresses in its long history, not since the Second Age and the reign or Empress Fingaal _ni Undomil_. The Galra were by nature a patriarchal society, succession passing from father to son and few Emperor's took formal wives so obviously there were few Empresses. Most of the kings of old had kept several lovers, any of which might bear his heir. The term 'bastard' was not a stigma on Galra but rather just another state of one's birth. Formal marriages were usually only for financial or political alignments or if a man wanted the offspring of aparticular one of his lovers to be formally acknowledged as his heirs, forsaking any other children he might have from other women.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Fala was to young to have her beauty marred by motherhood so soon. Not to mention he certainly didn't want any brats underfoot as he was trying to solidify himself as Emperor.

And that thought brought his momentary indulgence in fantasy to an end, Sincline's thoughts returned to the hear-and-now and his coup to overthrow his father. The original plan had been simple, greet Daibazaal at gun-point just as the man was stepping out of his ship. Don't give him a chance or the option to fight back. Take to the Arena and publicly execute him. It was simple, easy almost. But Fala introduced a wild-card, she was an unaccountable variable in the situation. At worst she would be his father's shield against him and the instrument of his defeat because they both knew that the prince would risk no hurt to the Altean princess. But then Fala herself might act to free herself and disrupt both of them, she was after all a very tenacious woman and did not take kindly to being held prisoner or used as a bargaining chip. She might try to escape in what ever confusion might arrise from his coup and then she'd be loose on the planet and him with limited ways of tracking her. If she were to somehow meet up with her cousin's terrorist cell...

Well, that was a contingency he might have to plan for, but he wouldn't think on it now. Now he had more immediate worried to keep his mind adequately occupied.

There was a knock on the bathroom's door and Sincline slid his hand beneath his neatly folded towel that had been laid by the side of the slightly-smaller-than-a-swimming-pool tub and grasped the knife that he had concealed there before begging his bath. Just about everyone within the palace now was loyal to him, but there was no need taking foolish chances. "Enter."

Gibra stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He respectfully bowed at the waist then spoke frankly. "My prince, Daibazaal's ship has just passed the Ort Field and is due to land in little less than a half-hour."

The Prince Imperial nodded and stood with little modesty for the fact that he was on full display to his General. Water droplets traveled down his lean but muscled frame, their courses zig-zged by the silvery-white hair that salted his chest, pubis and legs. Sincline stepped out of the tub and padded himself down with the towel. Two slave-girls from the prince's Collection entered through a servants' door carrying a fresh change of clothing, his helmet and sword-belt. They set to work dressing him in his normal blue and black prince's raiment. Sincline smirked smugly when one of the girls bent down to fasten his belt while the other knelt to buckle his boot. Had there been more time the prince probably would have taken one or both of them to bed and worked off some of the residual tension from his short stay in prison. But such an activity wouldn't be practical at the moment. When his slaves had finished he replaced his knife on his belt opposite the lazon sword and placed his helmet on his head. Not quite ready to face his father yet, but still willing to do so he turned to Gibra.

"What landing pad?"

...

The _Angband_, Emperor Daibazaal's flagship, docked with on of the landing runners of the pales' main docking pad. The ship's pilot cut the sub-atmo engines and let the landing runner pull it the rest of the way into dock. There was a snap-hiss as hydraulic clamp closed themselves around the massive star-ship, locking the behemoth in place. Another snap-hiss announced the opening of the ship's main gang-plank and the Emperor stepped out.

"What is the meaning of this!" Were the despot's first startled words.

"You dare point guns at your Emperor!" Came Hornerva's raspy voice.

Two dozen of Sincline's own Red Army soldiers as well as a hand-full of other from different divisions stood in a semi-circle around the open hatch of the _Angband_, effectively blocking the soon to be _former_ Emperor of the Galra Empire from disembarking. They stood with their feet planted and their guns poised, ready to fire at the slightest sign of resistance. Not a one of them said anything in response to either Daibazaal's or Hornerva's questions. They remained stoically focused on their point-blank targets, index fingers resting on the triggers. A smug laugh drew the Emperor's attention momentary away from the weapons pointed at him and he focused on what must be the source of this mutiny.

"Sincline!" He roared.

The Prince Imperial swaggered up to the gang-plank of the _Angband_, the General Gibra Red Army Commander at his right hand. His silvery white hair looked damp and clung to the sides of his neck leaving dark wet splotches on the shoulders and back of his otherwise immaculate blue and black raiment. He appeared to have just gotten out of the shower. Sincline stopped just short of his father, planting his feet and crossing his arms over his chest he smiled a smug imperious smile. "Welcome home 'Emperor' Daibazaal, or shall we all just call you Daibazaal now?"

On the outside the prince projected an air of calm confidence, on the inside he was sick with relief. He did not see Fala exiting the Angband with his father, that meant that the Emperor hadn't planned on using her as a hostage against_ him_ to begin with. However, that did not mean that she was not in danger. Since she had not yet been brought out then she must still be locked in the detention level of the ship and still under Daibazaal's power to use against him. Sincline had to diffuse this situation and neutralize his father (and Hornerva) as soon as possible to ensure that she was not dragged into his power struggle. The Prince Imperial did not want his future Empress endangered.

"What is the meaning of this treachery, Sincline?" Daibazaal demanded.

"'Treachery'?" The prince echoed. "You were the one who betrayed me _first_, dear father. Or do you not remember announcing to execute me before lucking me in a cell beneath Demon Castle? 'Treachery', no. This is 'just deserts'."

Daibazaal bit the inside of his cheek while he studied the guns pointed at him and the soldiers holding them. All were perfect shots, the Empire's finest and at this close range there was not a chance of any one of them missing. They were all loyal to his son and would not be swayed by any appeal he might make. The Galra Emperor turned his focus from the soldiers and their guns and turned it back to his treacherous son. Daibazaal studied this man that had once been his heir and only offspring. Of all his concubines, lovers and pleasure slaves over the years, he had never expected a human slave to give him his heir. A hybrid between Galra and humans wasn't even supposed to be possible, reptiles like the Galra and mammals like humans weren't supposed to be able to inter-breed. And yet Sincline had been born none the less.

His doctors and scientists had been unable to explain it, his priests had proclaimed it to be the will of the gods, that the God King Menagroth had decided that the next Emperor of Galra should be of multiple races because the Empire encompassed many races. Daibazaal had rejected this idea not believing the gods actually existed and had turned to occult-science to give him the answers needed. In end, even Hornerva's occult-science tests were inconclusive and for lack of a better explanation, the Emperor had been forced to accept the 'will of the gods' theory. Was that what this was now? Was it the will of the gods, the will of the God King that Sincline now succeed him as Emperor? Daibazaal was about to submit to what could only be 'the will of the gods' and accept death at his son's hands (because he would never live under the rule of another) when Hornerva spoke, reminding him that he still had an ace up his sleeve.

"Heh, heh, heh... You've made one mistake, Sincline." She rasped. "We have Princess Fala of Altea as our prisoner, if you make one more move against His Eminence she will suffer for your insolence."

The prince schooled his features into a mask of boredom. If he could convince them that Fala meant nothing to him anymore then they might not try to use her against him. Of course, knowing his father, he might just kill her out of frustration. Fear tightened in his belly but Sincline refused to let any of it show on his face as he said in as mild a tone as he could manage, "Oh? And why should I care if she suffers? What's one human woman to me when I have a almost a full Collection of them already."

Daibazaal studied his son's impassive face, he would have almost believed the prince's ploy had he not noticed the tightness and tension behind the younger man's eyes. He was concerned for the princess, more so than he should feel for a mere bedroom conquest. She was his _ardan_, perhaps not yet in practice but certainly in feeling. The Emperor could use that feeling to his advantage and force Sincline into submission as he was going to force Altea. The prince's _arda_ for the girl truly was his undoing, his one true weakness. Daibazaal's lip curled. "Well then, you wouldn't mind if I had one of my guards escort her out here, would you? She is, after all, a _guest_ of this Empire..."

He let his words hang in the air between them, the father studying the son's reaction.

To his credit, Sincline gave nothing away. He remained impassive, not letting his true feelings show through his mask of board indifference. Behind the Emperor, Hornerva pulled out a small hand-held communicator and ordered the guards to bring out the princess. The Prince Imperial martialed all his self-control not to rush on board the _Angband_ and free Fala himself. On the outside he might have appeared calm and collected, but on the inside his heart was hammering against his chest and his stomach was doing flip-flops while his mind ran through every possible scenario of how this situation could possibly go wrong starting with something as simple and mundane as a person tripping and firing their weapon indiscriminately all the way up to things as spectacular and ridiculous as an act of the gods.

Silence hung over the assembly. Sincline's Red Army stood as steady as statues with their weapons still trained on the Emperor and his single supporter Hornerva. Daibazaal looked calm, almost bored but not quite as he stood on the gangplank of the _Angband_. A hint of amusement would flicker behind his eyes every now and again as he studied his son's all to perfect expression of sheer apathy. The sheer fact that he looked so very uncaring was proof enough for the old despot that while the prince was the one with the Army and the guns, they still met as equals because the Emperor had just as powerful weapon on the prince as the prince had on him. So long as Daibazaal had Fala, Sincline was helpless.

Hornerva's com-link beeped and the old hag listened to whomever was on the other end of it for a moment or two before exclaiming, "What!"

"What is it, Hornerva?" The Emperor asked over his shoulder, not bothering to look at her.

"Princess Fala..." The occult-science witch began. "... She's escaped."

"What!" Both Daibazaal and Sincline echoed her earlier exclamation.

The Emperor moved as if to turn back and run into the ship. If the princess escaped then he would have no hostage to use against Altea to force their surrender and no weapon to use against Sincline and put an end to his foolish schemes once and for all.

"Don't move!" The prince barked. He was finding it hard to breath but he remained firm all the same. "Men, if he makes one move reenter the ship shoot him and shoot to kill!"

This was not how he had planned it, this was not how he had wanted it, but if his father made one move towards Fala he would kill him. He had to die one way or another, after all, it was a coup; you can't force your way to power without eliminating the previous sovereign permanently. But Sincline had wanted it to be a public execution, something that could be televised throughout the whole Empire to show how complete and absolute the Prince Imperial's power was. But if Daibazaal made one move towards Fala Sincline was resolved to kill him right here and now. His hand closed over the grip of his sword and he glared daggers at his father, daring him to move.

When the attack came it was not from the Emperor but rather Hornerva. The occult-science witch raised her staff and sent a jagged beam of violet magical energy strait for the prince. Sincline managed to bring his sword to bear just in time to block the attack but not do much else. The violet energy wrapped itself around the glowing blue blade as if it were trying to choke it and the prince was glad the attack had not hit him directly. All around him guns now blazed. The air was filled with the _ra-ta-ta-tat_ of rappid-fire rifles or the _pizuum-shuum_ of lazer-pistols and the acrid scent that always accompanied such weapons.

"Hold your fire!" The prince shouted over the din. Slowly, the gun-fire died down, the confusion giving way to clarity as Sincline observed what had once been Hornerva the Occult-Science Witch. Her body was a broken and pulpy mass of bullet-riddled meat that only just barley resembled who it had once been. A sizable pool of dark violet blood oozed out from the body on all sides and trickled off the edge of the gang-plank or flowed down the rest of the way. Sincline focussed her eyes back on his father whom looked a little shell socked but otherwise unharmed. "Now will you surrender?"

The Emperor starred at the body that had once been his most trusted advisor and loyal supporter, he glanced up at his son whom was once again wearing his mask of bored indifference. Daibazaal wouldn't see a way for him to fight Sincline and win. Not now at leas. There was only one option left to him, he got down on his knees.

"I yield to Menagroth's Chosen."

"Good." The prince finally aloud himself a triumphant smile. He motioned to two of the soldiers that surrounded them. "You two take him. Put our recently deposed ruler in the 'VIP suit'."

The two Red Army soldiers that now escorted Daibazaal to the same prison cell that Sincline had been locked in.

"Gibra, come with me." Sincline began climbing the gang-plank onto the _Angband _intent on seeing Fala. "The rest of you, wait out here for further orders."

...

Fala detested the Galra Empire. She never had any great love of the Empire to begin with, after all they had invaded her home world when she was just an infant, murdered her parents and enslaved her people. But that had all been done on the orders of their Emperor, Daibazaal. It was he whom she hated. But now her distain extended to the Empire as a whole. And 'why' you ask? Because their on-ship detention cells did not have toilets. Seriously, she would have settled for a bucket, but no, she got nothing. She had to go in the corner. It was an affront to every habit of personal hygiene and general cleanliness that had been taught to her since infancy. When she thought of all the horrible things that might be done to her once on Galra she decided that none of them could possibly be as bad as this. They could beat her, they could rape her, they could enslave her, hell, they could load her live body into a cannon and shoot her at the Lions if they wanted to, but for the love of God give her a toilet!

She had tried her best to stay clean in spite of her deplorable surroundings. Her pride as a princess and as the last surviving member of the Royal House of Altea would not allow her to face her captors looking like the gutter whelp of a destitute, she would hold her head high and proud, an equal to her fell captor, not his subordinate.

But beyond pride an appearance she had to figure a way out of here. Fala would _not_ allow her home and her people to be taken over by Galra a second time. But as long as she was held as Daibazaal's hostage Raible was handicapped and wouldn't be able to fight them back. Kogane and the other Lion pilots would fight but how effective would they be without Blue Lion? Would they find another pilot to replace her as she had once replaced Kurogane or would they mount a rescue attempt for her? Regardless of what the other's back home tried to do she couldn't count on them, she had to escape on her own. She had played 'damsel in distress' enough times to know that siting and waiting for rescue solved nothing. She was on this ship now. She was surrounded by enemies all of which carried weapons. Weapons which, if she could get a hold of one, could bring her one step closer to freedom. She wasn't very familiar with this specific Galran ship, the _Angband_, but she had been on Sincline's ship the _Narsil _enough to become familiar with its layout. If the two were similar she was confident that she could navigate her way off of it. If she could just get out of this cell...

They had already landed on the Galran capitol so she didn't have to worry about escape pods or air-locks. However, it did mean that she now had an entire planet of enemies between her and any form of true escape. Her best bet, after getting off the ship was to find Amue's rebel group. Maybe they would have a ship capable of getting her back to Altea. Her mind made up she sat back and waited for her opportunity. Someone wold have to come to let her out of her cell at some point, to move her into a more permanent jail at the very least. It wouldn't due to have their special 'guest' stay in the ship indefinitely. She decided that her best opportunity would be when they opened her cell door. She would wrestle a weapon from one of the guards and take out the other. Then find an emergency hatch or some sort and high-tail it out of there! Meet-up with Amue, and get back to Altea as fast as she possibly could. The Lion team needed her.

She got her opportunity all to soon it seemed. Two of Daibazaal's soldiers approached her cell not long after the fell Emperor and his witch had disembarked from the ship. One of them kept his lazer-pistol trained on her while the other keyed the control panel by her cell to release the bars.

"Move." Ordered the one with the gun in highly accented Altean.

Fala nodded, keeping here eyes down-cast trying to project the image of a demure and defeated woman and stepped closer to the one holding the gun. When she was less than an arms length away from him she snapped up, ramming the heal of her hand into the man's chin, causing him to bite his tong. The princess took advantage of the man's shock and wrestled his gun from him, getting off two quick shots at the other whom was hurriedly reaching for his own gun. In the speed and heat of the moment her aim was off and she only managed to hit his shoulder and thigh, they were not killing shots but she did succeed in stalling him from drawing his own weapon long enough for her to shove one of them back into her cell and slam the bars shut on him. The one remaining she shot and sure she killed this time. She raided the body for anything that might be useful to her, a spare energy pack for the lazer-pistol, a knife, and flashlight; everything else she either didn't think she would use or couldn't identify in the first place, alien technology and all.

She slipped the Galra lazer-pistol in to the empty holster on her belt, her own pistol having been confiscated when she had been taken prisoner. There was no time to look for it now. The flashlight and knife she likewise found places for on her belt, they fit awkwardly but seemed secure enough as to not fall off and trip her when running and she _would_ be running. Her little skirmish with the guards had not been a quiet one and reinforcements would be arriving soon. She sprinted down the corridor to the main (and only) exit of the detention center... and came face to face with three other guards.

Her commandeered pistol was back in her hand in an instant and she managed to take out one of the Galran soldiers before they could point there weapons at her. She dove behind a console of some sort to avoid getting hit by the other two. The one she had locked in her cell was shouting from down the corridor in the guttural language of the Galran people, Fala had no idea what he was saying but she assumed he was begging his fellows to let him out to join the fight. Unless they chose to take him up on that offer both he and his cries weren't important. She focused her attention back on the remaining two soldiers that stood between her and whatever freedom she could find on Galra.

One of them had taken cover just as she had behind the still open door to the detention center while the other one held his blaster poised to shoot anything that came out from behind her chosen console of cover. She was trapped. The one crouched behind the open doorway was muttering into the palm of his had. A communicator of some sort? If so, then she would have more than just the two to worry about. If she could manage to take out the one calling for back-up would she be able to duck back behind cover before the other one got in a kill-shot? Probably not. But they were both blocking the one and only exit out of here! (Unless she somehow managed to find a garbage shoot or something... But what practical minded Empire would have open grates leading to their garbage shoots out in the open on a prison level?) It seemed there was really only one option left open to her if she wanted to get out alive.

"I surrender!" She called over the console. "I give up."

She pulled the battery pack from her lazer-pistol and slid both it and the gun across the floor to coast to a stop at the feet of the one standing with the gun. She also slid over the spare charge pack and the flashlight. The knife, however, she slipped into her sleeve hoping it would stay inconspicuous until she was ready to use it, it wouldn't be long. The soldier with the gun barked something at her but she didn't understand it, but she jot the jist. Fala stepped out from behind the her cove with her hands on her head, her right wrist turned at an odd angle to try and hide the fact that there was a knife in her sleeve. She took a step closer to the man with the gun, hoping to close a little more distance between the two of them. When she was just within arms reach of him she pulled the knife out of her sleeve and slashed across the man's throat. Dark purple blood spurted out and spattered itself over her arm, chest and face.

His companion gasped in shock and tossed his com-link aside to go for his gun but Fala, already on her feet with reflexes adrenaline enhanced, had already snatched up the dead one's gun. This time her aim was better and she landed a bulls-eye right in the man's chest. HIs body convulsed for a few moments, spasaming as he died. When he no longer moved she gingerly stepped over him and out of the detention center. Phase one of her escape was complete.

Fala found a lift that would take her to another level of the ship easily enough and she had a vague idea of how to operate it from watching when they had first brought her down to the prison level. She keyed the lift to take her to, what she hoped, was galley which _should_ be empty of personnel at the moment. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea how to read the odd characters that made-up the Galran writing system and so for all she knew she could be walking right onto the bridge.

She almost wished it had been the bridge the lift had taken her to. When the door slid open it was not the galley she found herself in, nor was it the bridge or any other recognizable part of the ship. But while she didn't recognize _where_ on the ship she was, she did recognize _who_ she suddenly found herself in the company of.

"Sincline!"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Three:

"We received intelligence from Princess Amue and Ryou."

The four remaining Golion pilots jumped to their feet, eager for an update from the Galra capitol. After their humiliating defeat at the hands of Emperor Dabazaal, the destruction of the space-cannon and the capture of their princess, the team's moral had taken a decisive nose dive toward the hopeless and depressed. They had been lounging in one of the common rooms of the castle's living area, wallowing in the company of each other's misery when Raible had entered with a small autoreader in hand. Kogane almost snatched the information storage device from the strategist's hand in his eagerness for information about Fala.

"Its not gonna be the information you think it is." Raible warned him just as the Black Lion pilot switched it on.

A small hologram of Princess Amue, Fala's cousin, appeared standing on the the autoreader. Her eyes were focused on whatever recording device she had used but it gave the effect of fixing her commanding gaze on Kogane and the others that had gathered to watch over his shoulders. Raible gave the boys some space and leaned back against a near wall to wait for their disappointment.

"Things are divided here on Galra." The princess began, her voice calm yet somehow still commanding and full of authority. "Sincline and the and Emperor have turned against one another and both the court and the military is unsure about whom they should fallow. Daibazaal has imprisoned Sincline for his failure to defeat Golion..." Here she smiled proudly, knowing that it was her kin that was causing the Empire so much grief and vexation. "... and is planning to execute him. But this decision seems to have just sparked more disquiet. The Empire is devided. Now is the perfect time for an attack!"

The image flickered and then the message began again. Kogane switched it off with a despondent sigh and slumped backwards into the nearest chair.

"T'ch, old news is old." Kurogane scoffed placing his hands in his pockets. He began to pace the room in agitation.

"I don't get it." Seido said bewildered. "The falling-out between Sincline and Daibazaal must have happened weeks ago. Why's she only just telling us about it now?"

Now Raible cleared his throat, bringing all four of the boys' attention back to himself. He pushed off from the wall and accepted the autoreader back from the Black Lion pilot. "Amue and her rebel group cannot contact us directly." He explained. "Any transmission they send to us, or any transmission we send to them could easily be tracked by the Galra military. In other words, we'd just be giving away Amue and Ryou's location to the enemy and it would be the end of our allies. For that reason they instead communicate with us through pre-recorded message caches. Either Amue or Ryou will record a message for us with updates and intelligence on the capitol seal it in a pod and either attack it to an out-bound Galran ship where it will detach at the ship passes through the energy field that surrounds the planet or else launch then into space from the planet and hope it is picked up by a friendly ship passing by."

The four Lion pilots all nodded their understand but didn't comment. Kogane looked as if her were going to exclaim how useless a system that was be he remained tactfully silent. It was possible that Amue and Ryou were staging their own rescue for Fala at this very moment and he just wasn't aware of it due to the communication delay.

"What I have come to ask you," The strategist continued, "is what kind of reply should I send back. The space-cannon is gone and so we can neither launch an attack on Galra nor a rescue mission for Princess Fala. The princess is Daibazaal's hostage and I'm not entirely sure what he might do to her if we don't give into his demands. I have already spoken with the other representatives of the Leo Alliance and they are urging me to wait and give Amue and Ryou a chance to mount a rescue. However, because communication between the Alliance and their group is so slow I'm unsure about trusting Fala's fate to them. That is why I'm asking you." His eyes swept over each of them in turn before settling on their leader, Kogane. 'That's why I'm asking _you_.'

The Black Lion pilot was silent a moment before he slowly answered, "I want to rescue Fala... but, Golion is short one pilot and even if there was someone here who could take over piloting Golion we still have no way of getting through the energy field that surrounds the planet." He fell silent again, his expression pensive. "Galran ships pass in and out easily enough... If we could figure out how they do it, maybe we don't need the cannon anymore and could still mount a rescue for Fala. But that would still leave us short one pilot..."

"If we could get our hands on a slave-ship for a raider I bet I could take it apart and figure out how it works." Shorty piped up.

"But how would we get our hands on a ship?" Seido asked. The Yellow Lion pilot shook his head. "I can't remember us ever going up against a Galra ship of any kind without completely destroying it."

"Except for when we lost to it..." Kogane muttered gloomily thinking of their defeat at the hands of Daibazaal.

"T'ch." Kurogane stopped pacing and glared at his comrades. "Listen to you all. And here I thought I was the pessimist of the group. How did we escape from Galra in the fisrt place? Back when we were all slaves, I know you remember."

"We stole a ship." Seido replied with a shrug. "But it was also destroyed when we crashed here on Altea. You should remember that, Moody."

"Yeah, I remember." Kurogane shrugged. "But remember our second problem, we also need a fifth pilot for Golion. And don't forget who's younger brother Ryou is... If Shirogane's little brother can steal a Galran ship and fly it here then we'll have both a new pilot for Blue Lion and a means of passing though the energy field that surrounds the capitol."

"That's brilliant!" Kogane jumped to his feet. He turned to the strategist. "Raible..."

He nodded but before he left to compose the message that would be sent to Amue and Ryou's group he said, "But remember how much time this will take. The fact that there's no guarantee the message of our plan will even get to Amue, it will still take a while for Ryou to get here with the ship and then we'll still have to study it before we can figure out how to use its alien technology. I don't think Daibazaal's ultimatum will give us enough time..."

They all fell silent again, the depressed atmosphere returning with the reminder that Fala did not have the time that they would need. If they didn't surrender in whatever the Galran Emperor considered to be a 'reasonable' amount of time then he would no longer have a use for the Altean princess and no doubt kill her (or worse). Raible could stall, but not very long; a week, maybe a month at most. But no where near the time needed for their plan...

"Surrender." He finally said at length.

All eyes turned to look at the Black Lion pilot as if he had suddenly gone mad. Surrender Altea to Galra? Wasn't that what they were trying to _avoid_ doing? Was Fala really more important to Kogane than an entire planet of innocent people? Everyone knew how the pilot and the princess felt about each other, it wasn't the same type of camaraderie between teammates. But he had been a slave in the Galra Empire once and should know that you cannot sacrifice an entire group for the sake of one person no matter how special to you that person is. The needs of the many out weigh the needs of the individual. Fala understood that, it was why she had threatened that if Raible actually did surrender the planet for her sake she would kill herself. She understood that Altea was more important than the fate of one woman. Why was Kogane giving up so suddenly? And only just when they had begun planing their come back.

"If you surrender Daibazaal's pressure on us will lessen a bit and Fala won't be in immediate danger." He explained.

"You know the moment Altea surrenders, Daibazaal is gonna demand we turn the Lions over to him." Shorty reminded his Cheif.

It was Kurogane who replied before Kogane had the chance to. "Yeah, but we won't be surrendering. Will we, Cheif?"

The Red Lion pilot cast a sideways look at his leader, a sly grin spreading over his face when the other man nodded and explained. "Raible the Strategist and Steward pro-tem will surrender Altea. But the Golion team will be so outraged when they hear about it that they high-jack the Lions and flee."

"That'll give Amue and Ryou enough time to get a Galran ship and new Lion pilot to us where ever we end-up setting up base." Seido realized.

Kogane nodded. "Raible, make the call."

The strategist left to compose a message to be sent to Princess Amue's rebel group before calling the Galra Emperor directly to announce the planet's surrender.

...

"You'll look simply stunning in this gown, m'lady."

Fala examined the dress the woman was holding up for her. It was a heavy looking dress made of gold silk with just the slightest bit of black accenting the collar, sleeves and hem in a delicate diamond pattern. Had it been shown to her in any other setting she would have thought it very nice indeed. At the moment, however, all she wanted to do was rip the material apart. She had been so close, so close to escaping. Why did she have to run into him?

Her first instinct upon seeing Sincline standing in the lift doorway was to grab her knife and lunge at him. Go for the throat, the eyes, the chest... any vital part of him. But she hadn't even managed a scratch. The Prince Imperial had side-stepped her attack as if it meant nothing for him and grabbed her wrist, applying just enough pressure to force her hand to drop the knife. And then he laughed. The bastard actually laughed, not the low cold-hearted laugh of victory he often used but a laugh of honest to goodness amusement. _Amusement_! As if her attack were nothing more than a cute joke to him. He had looked down at her with an expression, not of anger or triumph, but rather warmth and affection. How dare he look at her with such a gentle gaze! He whom had been attacking her planet and people for the past two years. He had no business looking at her with such affection in his eyes.

Fala's eyes shifted from the dress to the servant holding it. No, not a servant, this woman was a slave. She was dressed in a servant's uniform not slaves rags, but she wore a collar around her neck, a collar she couldn't remove and would tighten and strangle her to death if she tried. She was human, as were all the slaves Sincline had given her. He had probably thought that being surrounded by members of her own species would be a comfort for her, all it did was serve to remind the Altean princess of the fate he had in store for her own people should Raible surrender to Galra. Either slavery or death, those seemed to be the options the Empire offered to those it concord. She supposed it was possibly better than the option offered to those within the Empire whom refused to submit to the ruling authority; the options of private assassination or public execution. She shuddered at the memory of Hornerva's body.

Her weapons had been once again taken from her. Sincline was leading her by the hand. They were surrounded by a host of his guards. She had no hope of another escape attempt. As the prince lead her out of the ship she saw it, the body. Laying at an odd angle half-way down the gangplank, crumpled and pulpy, the material of its tattered clothing completely saturated by bodily fluids, blood still oozing from it and trickling over the edge or down the rest of the ramp. Had it not been for the dark blue space-cat that was pawing at the fleshy mass so forlornly Fala would not have been able to identify it as the Occult-Sicence Witch, Hornerva. It was only later that she had learned that the Witch had sided with Daibazaal in the power-struggle between he and Sincline and for that she had been killed. And then that brought Fala to wonder about her own fate. Obviously she opposed Sincline, but he couldn't kill her until after Altea surrendered. She wouldn't have much use as a hostage if she were dead. But what about _after_? What did he plan for her then?

"M'lady...?" The slave-woman prodded, once again offering the dress.

And another thing she wondered as she took the dress and slipped into it, turning around so that the woman could lace up her back, why had she not been thrown in with the rest of Sincline's harem? She was more than well aware of his carnal interest in her, Fala would have though that he would be having her trained by his pleasure slaves right now, not waited on and pampered by a host of servants and slaves. She just couldn't figure him. Instead of putting her in with his harem and defiling her virtue as she had expected, the Prince Imperial and acting Emperor Pro-Tem had given her a suit all her own in the palace's residential wing, on the floor that was supposed to be reserved exclusively for the royal family. He had given her her own small army of servants and slaves all human and all female. But most astonishing of all, the Galran prince had not made a single inappropriate move toward her since she had arrived on the planet. A grand total of three days she had been on Galra and in those three days Sincline had insisted that she take meals with him (as he had also insisted on her attendance at the Arena today) but aside from that Fala had barely seen the man.

"You look beautiful, m'lady." The slave-woman said after she had finished lacing up the dress and Fala could turn round. Her name was Marisol and had been enslaved when the Empire had conquered the planet Earth which by coincidence was also Kogane's home planet.

"I wish I didn't." Fala admitted. "Maybe then he'd louse interest."

"Being the object of affection for one of the most powerful men in the galaxy can't be all that terrible." Marisol insisted.

"'Affection'?" Fala echoed. "Ha!"

The idea was laughable! To think that Sincline felt anything for her beyond his base and iniquitous lust was simply ridiculous. She highly doubted he had a single caring bone in his body. 'Affection'... don't make her laugh! The man probably had more affection for his shiny girly hair than he did for _her_. No, if the soon-to-be Emperor had any feeling for her at all it was infatuation, not affection. She was an interesting novelty to him, a woman who fought back, who took matters into her own hands and defended her planet and her people along side her campions instead of sitting safe in the castle with her embroidery. She couldn't wait until he tired of her head-strong willfulness and moved on, but at the same time she also feared it. What would Sincline do with her once he no longer found her amusing? At the moment she was a hostage against Altea and he couldn't hurt her lest he louse his leverage against Golion (which she assumed was also why he hadn't raped the hell out of her yet). But how long would that last?

"M'lady, we must not keep His Eminence waiting." Marisol reminded her.

"No, I suppose we mustn't." She sneered. Fala would have very much liked to keep the pompous prince waiting all day. She certainly had no desire to be near him and she was curious to test just how far she could push his temper. But not today, she decided as she stepped through the door Marisol held open for her and stepped out into the wide hallway.

Two pairs of guards instantly fell into formation around her. Sincline was very good about keeping her surrounded at all times so that she never had any hope of escape. Human slaves fearful of punishment while in her chambers and heavily armed Galran guards when she was out and about the castle. The Altean princess was actually quite surprised he let her wonder the palace at all. She would have thought he'd have her under house arrest and confine her to quarters. It would have been what she'd have done, had their roles been reversed. She certainly wouldn't want him wandering around her home, guards or no guards.

They lead Fala to the main lift that took them to a skyway that connected the castle to the Arena. Looking up at the dark sky with its perpetual cover of murky brown and black clouds she searched for any sign of color, any flash that might indicate Golion's appearance. It had become painfully obvious to her rather quickly that Sincline wasn't going to give her the opportunity to escape on her own. He had been to carful since running into her on the _Angband _and she couldn't find the opening she needed to escape. If the Altean princess were ever to get out of here it would have to be with outside help, she would have to be rescued. Fala bristled at that, she was well and tired of playing 'damsel in distress' all the damn time. She had almost freed herself on the _Angband_. It was just plain damn rotten luck that she had run into Sincline when she did. Damn him! But she wouldn't dwell on that anymore. Now the plan was to sit tight and play nice until the Lions came to rescue her... until Kogane came to rescue her.

Their party reached the Arena and her guards led her through another maze of hallways until she stood outside the door to a private box -the royal box. Fala inhaled deeply as one of the guards held the door open for her. '_Its just until Kogane comes_.' She told herself. _'I can play nice until Kogane rescues me_.'

"You're late." A low, almost feral growl issued from in front of an ornately carved high-back chair.

She glided with court trained grace to the chair next to him and sat, daintily folding her hands in her lap. Fala did not look at him, the Altean princess not wanting to meet his eyes when she said, "A woman is never late, Sincline. Nor is she early. A woman arrives precisely when she means to."

"That might be true for a _Queen_, but I hardly think it applies to all women. You are not a Queen yet, Fala." The Prince Imperial, Emperor Pro-Tem tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair in irritation, the material of his black glove making a disarmingly soft _pat pat pat _sound. At length he said, "I had planned to be down there instead of up here watching. I wanted to do it myself. But I'd rather share this moment with you. The least you could have done was show me the courtesy of arriving on time."

It was then that Fala realized what was going on in the Arena below her. Daibazaal, former Emperor of the Galra Empire, stood naked and chained to a solid iron post. Around him danced two bare chested Galran females with blades in hand. Galran women had no breasts (they did not nurse their young) and so it took the princess a moment to realize that they were female. They twirled and pirouetted and leapt in tight circles around the deposed despot and with every pass they made a fresh cut seemed to open in the man's flesh. Fala assumed that this sort of sadistic display of blood-letting by half-naked women must be thought of as highly erotic to the iniquitous people of the Empire. Why else would they have women as their executioners and why else would you draw it out in such a torturous way?

They must have been at it for a while already because dark purple blood flowed over most of his body, making his scaly green skin almost nauseating to look at. Fala placed her hand over her mouth in fear that she might be sick. The last thing she wanted to do was to show any kind of weakness in front of Sincline. She needed something to distract herself from the grotesque performance. For once, she found herself not just willing but actually _wanting_ to talk with him if for no other reason than to turn her attention from the gruesome deed taking place just meters from where she sat.

"I can't imagine you dancing like that." She said. Fala had been trying to make her voice sound light and matter-of-fact, as if she didn't care. What came out, however, was high pitched and strained. She cleared her throat almost the moment the words were out of her mouth and hoped he wouldn't notice her agitation.

"No." Sincline agreed. "I would have fought him like a man. He would have had a glorious death on my sword, a death worthy of kings. This is a death we reserve for traitors and military deserters." He moved his gloved hand from the armrest and took one of Fala's hands in his. He leaned over to gaze at her with what could only be described as unwarranted tenderness. "But the satisfaction I would have gotten from killing him myself is nothing compared to the pleasure I have just being here with you."

The Altean princess pulled her hand back out of his gentle grasp. "Nice line. Did it take you all night to think up or did you just make it up?"

The tenderness vanished from his finely chiseled features and he bared his teeth in a silent snarl, frustration pained across his face. "Careful, Princess. Without you, your precious Lion pilots cannot form Golion. Your planet is practically helpless and with you as my hostage they wouldn't dare to oppose me. If I were in your position I'd think twice before spurning me."

"If you were in my position you wouldn't care." She shot back. "You don't care about your country or your people. You only love yourself. You can hold me hostage against my planet and you can hold my planet hostage against me but don't you ever compare yourself to me! You and I are nothing alike."

"You presume much, Fala."

"Any man who delights in watching his father be slowly tortured to death could not possibly care for anything beyond his own selfish desires."

Sincline opened his mouth as if to speak but only snarled. He stood and with a seething air stormed from the royal box, much to the confusion of the guards that waited outside. Fala was left sitting alone and confused in her seat until she saw him walk out into the Arena.

...

The Emperor Pro-Tem stormed through the corridors of the Arena towards the lift that would take him down to the ground level. He grabbed a spare sword from the weapons store room (not technically an armory) and stalked onto the field.

So he was selfish, was he? Well, fine! He'd show her selfish. Sincline had wanted to share the moment of his triumph with her, to hold her small pink hand in his as the curtain fell on his father's reign as Emperor and his began. Well, if that was selfish then fine. He had also wanted to be the one to kill Dabazaal. The Prince Imperial had sat on the edge of his seat while waiting for her to arrive, wanting to be the one down there in the Arena instead of sitting serenely in an overly stuffed chair. He had chosen not to destroy his father himself because he had wanted Fala with him, he had wanted to give her the satisfaction of knowing that an enemy had been destroyed. If she called that selfish then he would just fall back on his original desire. He would be the one to kill Daibazaal.

"Leave." He snarled at the dancing executioners. The women hurriedly made themselves scares, not wanting to incur their new Emperor's ire. They wiped the blood from their weapons on the material of their dancer belts and sheathed them. Offering respectful bows to Sincline, they exited the Arena.

The prince glared at his father, focusing all his frustration with Fala onto the deposed despot.

Daibazaal, his face dripping with his own violet tinted blood, sneered back at his son. Then his expression changed, the sneer melting into a sardonic smile. "Finally work up the courage to do it yourself?"

Sincline chose not to dignify that with a response. Instead he released his father from the chains that bound him and pressed the spare sword into his hands. "Face me."

"No." This time the former Emperor's smile was vicious, a subtle, passive revenge.

Sincline realized only a second to late his mistake. By waiting to come out and challenge the old king the Prince Imperial had made himself look like a coward. Daibazaal was already obviously handicapped by his injuries, there was no way he could hold his own against Sincline and he would be the winner of the fight. But that didn't mean that he was the stronger warrior, the stronger leader. Instead it conveyed the idea that he was a weak, spineless coward who had to fatally injure his opponent before actually fighting him. And the wounds were fatal. Daibazaal had already lost allot of blood to the open lacerations in his scales and was still lousing blood. He would not live out the night if he walked out of the Arena at all. One way or another, Daibazaal would die today, and Sincline would succeed him, but the old king would still rule the minds of the people thanks to this single foolish act by the prince.

The Prince Imperial and Emperor Pro-Tem bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. "Fight me!" He all but snarled. "Show them how strong you still are."

"No." Daibazaal repeated. That same viscous smile still stretched across his thin serpentine lips.

"I will not make a martyr out of you." Sincline hissed through barred teeth.

"Then why did you bother coming down here at all?" His father shot back. "Or did your little Altean bitch piss you off so much that you just couldn't think strait?"

He bristled at the mention of Fala. Yes, she had irritated him into coming down to face his father himself. Yes, he had been frustrated over her these past few days. Frustrated over how he finally had her here in his home and yet he couldn't touch her for fear of lousing her value as a hostage against Altea and frustrated over her continued coldness toward him. He had been trying his best to be amiable toward her and endear himself to her but she was continuously brushing off his attempts or returning his kind words with verbal barbs. Never in his entire life had a women frustrated him so! But was it possible that she was really clouding his judgment? Was he really so weak of mind as to let a woman impede his ability to think clearly and tactfully?

"She seems like an uppity bitch." Daibazaal continued in an attempt to goad his son. "... Just like your mother. She just couldn't learn her place. Ya know, son, I never did tell you what happened to her, did I?"

Sincline's eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. "You told me she died in child-birth."

His father chuckled a low, mirthless, malicious laugh before saying. "No, she was to stubborn for that. No, she lived almost a whole year after giving birth to you... before I killed her."

The prince stood motionless. The rational thinking side of his brain told him it wasn't that surprising and that he shouldn't allow himself to be thrown by the news. He knew his father was an evil callous butcher and that he wouldn't have hesitated to kill one of his concubines if she ever displeased him. Unfortunately for Sincline, he had never been dominated by the rational side of his brain.

"Bwa-ha-ha, what's that look for, boy?" Daibazaal taunted. "Didn't Hornerva ever tell you? I had heard that you and she had quite the little heart-to-heart about it some time ago. Ya know... your little Altean princess does look a bit like her, something about the eyes... they have that same look or willful disobedience, like a horse that just needs to be broken."

"Shut-up!" Sincline finally snarled, knowing that it was just the kind of reaction the man wanted. He was trying to get the prince riled, trying to get him to land the killing blow in the heat of his anger and solidify his image as a weak coward in the eyes of the Empire. Emperor Sincline _fin Nimninel_, Sincline the Cowardly... Sincline _fin Isil_, Sincline the Weak.

"Oh? Does that bother you? To hear someone speak about your little pet-princess as if she we nothing more than a beast of burden?" Daibazaal swayed on his feet a little. The loss of blood from his earlier injuries beginning to take their toll. "Are you riding her yet? I can't imagine her being a very willing mount. Or are you playing the 'gentleman', hoping she might come around to you eventually? Pathetic. She'll never submit for you, Sincline, you're going to have to rip her open to get anything at all. Menagroth willing, I'd love to be a fly on the wall when you break her maiden-head."

"Stop it!" The prince's sword hand shook with barely contained emotion.

Daibazaal smiled yet another one of his cruel thin-lipped smiles. His voice changed to a higher pitch, the closest he could get to impersonating a female's voice. "'No, Sincline, please! It hurts! No! Ah! No. It hurts! It hurts!' She seems like a talker to me. But then again, one can never really tell. She might turn out to be a screamer. 'Ahhhhh! Kyaaaaaaah! No! Plea-ahhhh! Please! It huurrrrts!' Huh, huh, huh."

That seemed to be the last straw for Sincline. Lashing out in uncontained rage he slashed his sword across his father's bare chest. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, _shut up_!" Each shout was punctuated by another strike of his blade, the blue-tinted glow of the lazon momentarily illuminating the fresh flecks of blood with every strike. Daibazaal made no move to defend himself, he was as good as dead anyway, what would have been the point? He stood passively and when he could not stand anymore he fell to his knees and when he could no longer kneel he lay on the ground -dead. Though while he had been the one to die, it was Sincline whom had lost their little battle of wills. It was Sincline whom had proven himself a coward. It was Sincline whom was an overly emotional weakling. Daibazaal died, but by his death he had his revenge.

...

(A/N: I had actually planned to end this chapter with Sincline's coronation, but meh... I think I've kept you guys waiting for an update long enough. Tune in next time!)


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Four:

Blood mingled with the cold water from the shower, lightening it from its natural dark violet to a softer shade of lavender as it circled the drain. Sincline watched it, almost hypnotized, as he washed his father's blood from him. It was done. The old Emperor was dead, long live the Emperor. It hadn't happened how he had planned it, but then, nothing had been going exactly according to plan since he'd first learned that Fala had been captured. The Emperor Pro-Tem shook his head, wet locks of long silvery hair slapped his face as he did so. How could one human woman turn everything upside-down for him? Perhaps he really was just as weak as his father had thought. But if he were really so weak why was he the one that now ruled and his father now dead? Obviously he had strength of another kind, he just wasn't quite sure what to call this 'other strength'. And besides, his weakness for Fala wasn't entirely crippling. Sure, nothing had been going exactly according to plan since she became a factor in them, but the desired result was still achieved, just not in the way he might have wanted. He had the crown, he had killed his father, he had Fala and soon would have Altea.

Hm, Altea... He had considered offering a marriage treaty to Fala. It seemed the simplest way to both integrate the planet into the Empire and also make the beautiful blond princess his. But after additional thought the Emperor Pro-Tem had decided against this idea. If it was a treaty then he would have to make concessions and give up a small bit of the control he'd have over the planet and as much as he wanted both Altea and Fala he just wasn't willing to do that. He was an 'all or nothing' kind of guy, like his father before him and he did not much like the idea of sharing or giving up power. So then, he would keep Fala as his hostage until Raible surrendered. Once Altea was officially part of the Empire then he could finally take the princess to bed._ Finally_. There would be no political strings or subtleties if he waited, it would be no different than when he took his slaves to bed.

Finally clean now, Sincline shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. He padded himself down with the towel before two slave-girls from his Collection entered with his clothing. Not the usual blue and black prince's garb, no, these were clothes fit for a _king_. A solid black pair of trousers and form fitting tunic with intricately patterned gold trim on the high collar, sleeves and hem. Around his waist was fastened, not his usual sword belt which was made for brutal practicality, but rather one meant for decoration and ceremony. It was hard leather plated in solid gold and studded with rubies, his lazon sword had been given a matching scabbard so that it did not look out of place. His boots, also black were trimmed with the same intricate gold patterning and studded with rubies in a row across the top. The Emperor Pro-Tem admired his reflection, it would look better with a cape and a crown but he would be getting those soon enough.

Sincline dismissed his slaves and stepped out, ready for his coronation.

...

The throne room was packed, Fala had never known the Galra Empire had so many nobles and dignitaries, it was quite literally a full court. She had always assumed the Empire was ruled by just Dabazaal and Sincline, she had never imagined they would have an actual aristo-class or hold court. They all stood strait and still, at almost military attention, lined up along the red carpet that lead from the massive double doors of the throne room all the way up to the golden seat itself. An alter of sorts had been arranged in the center of the room, half-way between the door and the thrown but the Altean princess could only guess at what it would be used for. She couldn't imagine Sincline having to take a vow and be ordained by a priest before he was crowned. The Galra just did not seem like god-fearing people to her, least of all their Prince Imperial.

'Speak of the devil and he shall appear.' The old saying went, or in Fala's case, _think_ of him.

The double doors opened slowly and the Emperor Pro-Tem entered to the accompaniment of a trumpeting fanfare not unlike the ones given for the royal family on Altea. Fala did not much like the parallel her mind had drawn between her culture and his, but at the same time, she also took comfort in the familiarity of the practice (small and mundane as it was). The prince strode right up to the alter and locked eyes with another Galran whom Fala decided was a priest of sorts. Sincline said something in his native language, a long rhyming verse that sounded like some version of ritual language and the priest replied in kind before motioning for Sincline to kneel. The Emperor Pro-Tem sank gracefully to his knees keeping his chin held high. On Altea a soon-to-be-crowned King would bow to the clergy man whom was preforming his coronation, it was a simple courtesy! But Sincline did not.

The priest formed an elegant 'come here' motion with his hand and two guards marched swiftly up the aisle dragging a slave along with them. He was not a human slave, the first non-human slave Fala had seen the entire time she had been planet-side, actually. His skin was pink and bubbly looking, like a sponge and she wondered if he had originally hailed from a water-planet. He did look rather amphibious. However, more than she wondered what they planned to do with him. She could not imagine a coronation ceremony were only a single servant (or in this case slave) was necessary. Her confusion quickly passed into horrified understanding as the guards bent the slave over the alter and lifted his head up by his hair-like spines, effectively exposing his throat.

Another Galran dressed as a pries, though this one less grandly than the 'High Priest' that stood before Sincline came up and offered the prince a golden chalice on a red velvet cushion. The Emperor Po-Tem took the cup wordlessly and placed it on the alter under the man's neck. A second priest offered him a black bladed dagger on a gold velvet cushion. Dagger in one hand and chalice in the other, Sincline slit the slave's throat and caught the dripping blood in the golden cup. Fala was horrifyed. As the man's life-blood flowed out of him the High Priest began to chant. He was followed by the two other priests and then the guards that still held the slave's dyeing body, then the whole room seemed to be chanting the mantra. All except Sincline, he was silent as a statue, holding the cup to catch the blood. Twelve times the chant was repeated and when the chalice was full they stopped and a hush fell over the crowd.

When all was silent Sincline raised his bloody glass as if offering tribute, and that was when he began to speak. A short prayer or vow or whatever, Fala had no idea, and when he was done he lowered the cup to his lips and began to drink. He did not pause for breath until the chalice had been completely drained of blood and then he held it between his hands, one hand on bottom supporting, the other on top shielding and muttered what could only have been ritual language. "_Narhand ni minyeh, narhand ni atai._"

The priest then brought forth a gold crown on a black cushion. The High Priest reverently lifted it from it's soft velvet pillow and placed it upon Sinclines head. The Emperor Pro-Tem, ney, the _Emperor_ then smirked triumphantly and stood. The second priest rushed forward and fastened a cape about his shoulders, a cape as red as human blood, and Sincline strode the rest of the way to his thrown and sat. The HIgh Priest then projected his voice over the crowd. Fala didn't need to know the language to understand what was said, "Long live the king." Everyone in the room was suddenly kneeling and bowing, gracefully descending to their knees and lowering their heads in reverence.

The Altean princess refused to bow.

All eyes were suddenly raised to her. Who was this foreign, alien woman to dare dishonor their king his own court? The guards that had brought in the slave-sacrifice paused in their task of hauling the body away to gape at her. One of them left the task of dragging the body to his partner and moved to ward Fala, no doubt with the intent of forcing her to submit to Sincline's rule. He did not get all the way to her, but was rather intercepted by one of Fala's own personal guard; the Captain of her guard, actually. The princess had no idea from where she had materialized or how she had managed to move so quickly. The Altean princess hadn't even known that her guard Captain had been in attendance. The two guards exchanged words that Fala could not understand. All the wile, the court's full attention was fixed on the three of them.

And then the Emperor laughed, breaking the tense atmosphere. Sincline motioned for his guard to stand down and that the woman he had appointed as Captain of Fala's personal guard bring her up to him. Apprehension battled with sheer disoriented confusion as she was lead up the tall stairs of the dais to the throne. The captain of her guard pressed down on Fala's shoulders in an attempt to get her to kneel before him but she still refused so the woman gently kicked her knees out from under her with just enough force to make sure the Altean princess prostrated herself before the Emperor but not nearly enough force to cause any lasting pain.

"Ah, Fala..." Sincline crooned when she was finally on her knees before him. "You are so proud. But you forget yourself, my dear." The Emperor reached out his black-gloved hand and took a lock of her golden hair between his fingers. "You are not a Queen yet, my dearest, and princesses must still bow before Kings. Although... if you are in such a rush for your promotion, I'd be more than willing to accommodate you." He lifted the lock of her hair he held to his lips and kissed it sweetly before offering her a wicked grin.

"I will _never_ marry you!" She snarled with a the vehemence she could muster (which was a considerable amount).

To this, His Eminence merely shrugged and leaned back in his throne. "We shall see. For now, since you seem so adverse to the idea of prostrating yourself for me, you may sit at my feet as my special guest."

"I will not sit at your feet like a dog!"

And to this he gave another wicked grin. "You're always welcome to sit on my lap like a cat."

Fala flushed at the implications his retort carried and hurriedly sat down upon the top step and a little to the side. '_Its just until Kogane comes to rescue me._' She reminded herself passionately. '_I'm just playing along to give Kogane more time...'_

_..._

Raible had finally finished his message to Amue and her rebel unit and had sent a capsule containing the autoreder on which he had recorded it out into space on (what he hoped) was a direct course to planet Galra and he prayed it would reach its intended recipient and not be picked up by a Galran scout or other. But he would not worry about that now. He had done all he could do on that score, now it was time for him to call the Empire's capitol directly and tell Daibazaal that he was surrendering. It was with a heavy heart the strategist sat down in the single chair in the center of the Command Center and dialed for Planet Galra. It took some time for the signal to cross the distance between planets and the Steward sat back and listened to the waiting signal that sounded almost like an old fashioned telephone.

Unlike short range transmissions which sent an out going signal and waited for a reply signal, communication that took turns going back and forth. The interplanetary comm. instead sent out a single short-lengh wave to be picked up by a receiver at its intended destination, the receiver would then transmit a similar short-length wave that would meld with and enhance the already existing wave. This way a solid connection was formed between the two points of communication and conversations could be held in as close to real-time as physically possible for people speaking from two separate planets. Some lag still occurred but usually only when the two planets were farther away from each other than a little over eighteen light-years or when there was interference from a nearby body such as a star or quasar. There were no such bodies between Altea and Galra, however, and the two planets were just within eighteen light-years from each other.

The old fashioned telephone sound that was the comm's waiting signal suddenly stopped and the main screen was fill with the ugly reptilian face of a Galran communications officer. He glared down at Raible and ask a question in his own guttural language. The strategist didn't speak the language but he guessed at what the question must have been. "Who are you?"

"I am Raible the Strategist, acting Steward for the royal house of Altea." He said in a clear commanding voice. "I demand to speak with your Emperor about the terms of our surrender."

There was a moment of silence between them and Raible wondered if the man had understood him at all. Its true that very few people within the Galran military spoke the human languages of the universe, about the same ratio of humans whom spoke the Galran language. But one would think that the the Empire would at least make sure its communications officers could speak at least some of the languages of the people they were attempting to subjugate. And then, in a thick accent the Galran said, "Wait."

HIs face vanished from the main view screen to be replaced with a waiting screen. A simple animation of the emblem of the Galra Empire, the horned skull, slowly rotating inside a ring also rotating but in the opposite direction. Not knowing what else there was that he could do, the strategist sat back in his chair to wait for Daibazaal to attend to him.

...

A slave filled Fala's wine glass; a pale blush wine, pink and transparent not the horrid dark red blood-wine that Sincline and the rest of the Galran court was drinking. The Altean princess was thankful for the consideration it showed to not force her to drink the vile fermented blood that they called 'wine'. But at the same time the special treatment was making her chafe. Since she had arrived on the planet it seemed Sincline had been showing her favor that one should not normally give to a prisoner of an enemy nation. She was more than well aware of his 'romantic' interest in her (and she used the word loosely) and she supposed that did explain why she hadn't been thrown in prison but it didn't explain why he hadn't forced himself on her. As much as she feared and dreaded the possibility that he would all this not knowing, being unsure and insecure was killing her.

She was seated on his left hand at the high table of the banquet hall, a place that (in normal courts) was reserved for the king's wife or favored concubine, it was not meant for political prisoners. Fala glanced sideways at him talking softly with one of his ministers. To spite his spoiled and selfish personality and the great cruelties and fell deeds he was capable of, the Altean princess had to admit that he was rather handsome. His combined alien and human features blended together rather well and gave him an almost unreal etherial sort of beauty, like an idealized creature from myth. She just wished she could figure him out.

Fala was actually considering the idea of talking with him, of asking him to explain his barbaric coronation ceremony when another Galran dressed in the uniform of the military's communications division approached the high table and whispered something in Sincline's elegantly pointed ear. The Emperor grinned an evil sort of grin, dripping with triumphant glee and wicked pleasure. He ended the conversation with his minister and stood to leave the banquet hall.

"Where are you going?" Fala blurted out, suddenly anxious over being left at the high table with no one she was familiar with or who knew her language, for all intents and purposes _alone_. She did not like Sincline by any stretch of the imagination, in fact, she was rather confident that she hated the man, but he was the devil she knew. Loath as she was to admit it, she felt more comfortable around him here on Galra than she felt without him here on Galra.

"There is some business that I must attend to." He informed her and then, to the princess' shock, kissed her hand. "By your leave."

He left.

...

The waiting screen blinked off, replaced by the face of the Emperor of the Galra Empire. Raible straitened in his chair only to freeze in shock at the man he saw. "Sincline!"

The heterogeneous hybrid peered down at the Altean strategist, the menacing golden crown that now sat upon his silver-haired head looking large and imposing atop his fair features. "You were expecting perhaps Andy Bogard?"

"No, I..." The strategist stuttered. "You're supposed to be dead! Daibazaal was going to execute you... you..."

This changed everything. They had formed their plan around the belief that Daibazaal was the one running the show, but if Sincline was instead the one in charge... They didn't have to worry about Fala as much as they had, and they had to worry about her more as well. With Sincline as Emperor her life was not in danger, the rest of her on the other hand... Raible did not want to think about what that monster could have already done to his little princess already in the short time she had been his captive.

"As you can see, I am very much alive. Now, I believe you were about to surrender."

Raible paused to consider the new situation. With Sincline in command of the Empire Fala's life was not in danger and it was her life that they had originally been concerned with. However, that was when they had thought that Daibazaal was Emperor, with Sincline they needn't fear for her life but rather her virtue. But that did not change the fact that the Lions still couldn't rescue her without a way to penetrate the energy field that surrounded the planet. They still needed time to devise a new way to penetrate the field and time to get a new pilot for Blue Lion. Now the question was: Would Fala's maiden-chastity suffer for their surrender? Or, had she already been robbed of her purity and was the question moot? The strategist glared back up at the blue skinned devil.

"I want to know Princess Fala is alright. Let me see her first!" He demanded.

"No." The new Emperor replied flatly. "I can assure you, she is in prime condition. The very picture of health."

"I want _her_ to tell me that!" Raible insisted. Sincline's use of the phrase 'prime condition' made him inwardly cringe a bit and he had to wonder what she was in 'prime condition' _for _exactly.

The heterogeneous hybrid sighed dramatically and shrugged his shoulders. He called to someone off screen and gave a short order in his own alien language before returning his attention to the strategist. "Very well, Raible, you'll get your wish."

There was a prolonged pause filled only by an awkward silence while the two men waited for the princess to be brought to them. Rable took this time to study the new Galran Emperor, his already familiar enemy. He sat with the calm self-assuredness one would expect in a leader of nations, his expression giving away nothing of his true feelings, whatever those might be. Reclining slightly, one arm draped lazily over the arm of the chair in which he sat, the other with elbow propped up supporting his chin, it looked as if he were studying Raible as well. It occurred to the strategist then that the two of them, while very familiar with each other's tactics in battle, neither had ever had the opportunity to become aquatinted as men. Immediately following this realization, he suddenly took note of just how young Sincline really appeared. This train of thought, however, was cut suddenly short by the appearance of Princess Fala.

Sincline stood to offer her his seat as it was the only one in the direct line of site for the comm screen. "My dear."

She ignored his affectionately kind words and sat in the chair he had just vacated, her eyes fixed on the screen. "Raible!"

"Princess," began the strategist, his heart suddenly in his throat, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She answered.

Thinking her response nothing more than brave words he pressed, "He hasn't hurt you has he? He hasn't forced you to do anything... inappropriate? He hasn't..." Raible couldn't bring himself to say the word 'raped'. "... been fresh with you?"

Off-screen the strategist hear a snort of derisive laughter. No doubt Sincline found his word choice about his concerns amusing.

"I'm fine." Fala said again. "He really hasn't done anything to me." And she sounded genuinely surprised by that fact. Her own disbelief at being unharmed convinced Raible that it was the truth and he nodded in acknowledgement. Sincline might be an evil bastard, but he was an honest evil bastard (at least today), as he had said, he hadn't hurt Fala. She was the picture of health.

Sincline's face reappeared within the screen. "Are you satisfied?"

Raible nodded.

"With what?" Fala asked, but her question went ignored.

Sincline motioned to someone off screen and two female Galran guards came up to escort Fala away. The princess did not go quietly, continuing to demand what was going on and what they were discussing, what they were planning. Raible wished there were some way for him to comfort her, to let her know that he wasn't really going to surrender and that it was just a ruse to give the Lions the time they needed to rescue her. But he couldn't do that with Sincline standing right next to her. He just had to trust to hope that Fala wouldn't do anything stupid when she heard to news. The strategist remembered her threat to kill herself if he surrendered Altea and he could only hope that she had been bluffing or, heaven help him, hope to trust that Sincline would keep her safe from herself.

"Now then..." The Emperor reclaimed the seat in front of the view screen. "I trust we can finally get down to business."

...

Fala had sat brooding in her chambers ever since her guards had escorted her back to them. She was angry and anxious and wanted to do anything but sit and wait to find out what that thing with Raible was all about, if she ever found out that was. Sincline could just as easily never tell her. But then, she was no fool, she knew perfectly well that there were only so many reasons for the Steward of the Royal House of Altea to be calling the Galran Emperor.

"If he surrenders, I swear I'll do it!" She promised herself in a voice softer than a whisper.

If Raible surrendered Altea then she would have no purpose anymore. Her life's work had been keeping her planet and people safe from the Empire, if the strategist chose to give all that up to save her single life then she didn't want it. And besides that, with her planet under Galran control what life did she have to look forward to? Existence as Sincline's pleasure slave did not sound in the least bit appealing to her. And hadn't she also promised Sincline once that she would kill herself before she ever went to his bed? Well, she'd be keeping two promises with one action! Kogane had mentioned something about ritual suicide once before? Something that his people used to do back on his planet in ancient times? When a warrior suffered defeat he would kill himself rather than live with the shame of the defeat. They even had a word for it... 'seppuku'.

Thoughts of the Earth-born Lion pilot suddenly made her pause in her thoughts. He mind conjured up an image of his face, chiseled and handsome features with his exotic slanted eyes and thick main of ebony hair. In her mind's eye she saw him grinning at her, one of his 'things are bad but there's still hope' grins. What a fool she was. He had been a slave on this very planet after Eath had been conquered by Galra but he had not given up. No. Kogane and the others had persevered and managed to escape their vile captors, they had stolen a ship and made it all the way to Altea! They had done it, not by giving into despair, but by biding their time and waiting for the opportune moment for their escape. If Fala killed herself than all hope was lost, but if she bided her time and waited as Kogane and the rest of the Lion pilots did, she might still be able to find a means of escape.

"Even when you're not around, you're still my hero." She said aloud. "I'll be strong for you, Kogane."

...


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Five:

Fala was sitting stiff and ridged at breakfast the next morning. Sincline had insisted that she share all her meals with him since she had first arrived on Galra. The first time he had tried eating with her, however, the princess had attacked him with a fork. She had failed, of course, and since then had treated their shared meals with a silent distain that the newly crowned Emperor found very displeasing. Today, however, her mood was excitedly agitated and Sincline knew exactly why.

Last night he had ordered her brought from the banquet hall to the castle's main communications room to speak with her Steward and prove to him that she was indeed unharmed. After which she had been ushered back out of the room without ever knowing what it was that they intended to talk about behind her back. She could guess, however. Fala was no fool as Sincline well knew. She knew precisely the situation both she and her planet were in and knew that there was only one thing her Steward, Raible the Strategist, would be calling for. Altea had surrendered. The Emperor had not broken the news to Fala yet, of course. At the moment all she had were her guesses and her fears. And that more than explained her ridged agitation. She was torn between demanding information and remaining calm and collected to save face.

Sincline wondered how long her self-control would hold as he picked up his spoon. Unfortunately, ever since her little episode with the fork there had not been any sharp or pointy utensils set at his table. Their meals had to all be eaten with hands or spoon. Though, the Emperor was certain that if his lovely Altean princess really wanted to, she would find a way to kill him with a spoon. She was certainly clever enough. He took it as a sign of progress that she hadn't tried. He dipped his spoon in the bowl of shredded meats and porridge that had been set in front of him and smiled across the table her.

"Did you sleep well, my dear?" Sincline wondered just how long her self-control would hold out before she finally broke and demanded news of her home-world. He would be lying if he said he didn't find her agitation amusing.

She glared at him from her seat as if trying to impale him with her sharp and furious gaze but said nothing. She was just so lovely when her eyes were so full of such passion, like a Shield Maiden from ancient tales. But then again, he reflected, she rather was like a Shield Maiden fighting along side her champions in the protection of her planet and people. She was a warrior in her own right, clever and brave. She would make an excellent Empress. Sincline felt almost giddy at the prospect. All that needed to be done was have Altea's surrender finalized and she would be his. No strings attached, no compromises, no political intricacies, just his.

"You seemed rather peaky at dinner last night. Are you feeling alright?" The Emperor inquired, intentionally avoiding the topic of Altea's surrender. It was adorable watching her composure slip every time he began to speak but saying nothing of her planet or people. Her control was fraying and he rather liked this little power game they were playing.

"If you must know, I was revolted to the point of nausea by that disgusting display your people have the gall to call a 'coronation'." The princess shot back, more than happy to fling insults and verbal barbs at him every chance she got. As much as he delighted in making her feel uncomfortable she was going to relish matching him. Perhaps if she was lucky he would become so frustrated with her that he'd louse interest. Perhaps he'd slacken his guard enough for her to escape. Perhaps hell would freeze over and pigs would fly.

"Ah." He sipped his wine thoughtfully. "I suppose it would seem a bit... _disorienting_ to one who comes from a culture bleeding-heart peace mongers."

'Disorienting' was not the word Fala would have used to describe her feelings on the matter but she didn't really see a point in telling him that. Instead she said, "'Peace mongers'?"

"Indeed." Sincline placed his wine glass back on the table and took another spoonful of the meat and porridge concoction that was his breakfast and wished longingly for a steak in its stead. "Although I should probably add 'hypocrites' to the end of that. If you're people truly desired peace they would have given over to Galran rule a decade ago."

The Altean princess' fist impacted the table with enough force to rattle the china. But when she spoke her voice was level and even. "We desire peace and _freedom_, Sincline. That is something your Empire does not offer those who join it; whether freely or by force. There is a saying from Earth, one of the planets already under your rule, 'it is better to die standing than live a lifetime on your knees.' My people fight because they would rather die than become slaves to your sadistic whims and blood-fetishes."

"Hmm, 'blood-fetishes'... Ya know, I think I rather like the sound of that." The Emperor smiled wickedly at her. "Blood-fetish... and what kind of fetishes do you have, my dear? I'm very interested to know."

Fala flushed at his remark and chose not to dignify it with a response, instead opting to sip daintily from her orange juice to avoid answering. To her great relief, Sincline did not press the question and instead returned to their previous topic.

"Still, even your use of that lovely little Earther proverb is hypocritical my dear. After all, do your subjects not kneel to you? Do they not happily go to their knees at your passing? And then your clergy are always on their knees as well, praying to your single omnipotent and yet pathetically impotent god." He shrugged lightly. "But then again, it was never an Altean saying to begin with and I suppose everything is open to interpretation on some level. Especially when being interpreted by people of a culture different from the saying's origin. I'm curious what you might think of some Galran proverbs."

"They probably all have to do with blood, murder and rape." She muttered dryly while suppressing a snort of derision.

Sincline neither confirmed nor denied her assumption, in fact, he ignored her comment all together. "And so, what was your interpretation of the coronation ceremony?"

Fala wrinkled her nose in distain. The memory of a room full of people softly chanting as an innocent and helpless man's life was drained out of him played itself over in her mind's eye. Sincline raising the golden cup, almost overflowing with blood, to the sky and muttering a prayer of his own before drinking. She shuddered and suddenly found that she had lost her apatite. The Altean princess pushed her breakfast away from her in disgust. What was her interpretation of his coronation ceremony Sincline had asked. "It's barbaric. You're barbaric. This whole damn planet is barbaric!"

"How deep." The Emperor commented dryly. "And not at all over generalized or bias."

"Well, you can't very well expect my views to be unbias when you and your Empire have been attacking my planet and enslaving my people for as long as I can remember." Fala shot back. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair in frustration. She furiously wished he would stop all these silly games of his and just tell her that she had lost, Altea had surrendered and she was now, for all intents and purposes, his. The princess didn't want to be a slave, but his keeping her in suspense and playing these ridiculous games with her was worse. Fala gazed across the table at him so calm and collected, casually sitting with one elbow on the table, his chin resting on his hand, just studying her. She wished he wouldn't. She wished he wouldn't look at her so tenderly, they were not lovers, they were not even friends and he had no business holding such 'affection' in his gaze. Especially not when he had just forced her planet to surrender to his vile Empire.

"No, I suppose not." Sincline admitted.

They lapsed into a suddenly awkward silence then and Fala found herself wondering if he at all found truth in her words and regretted what he and his country had done. Then she reminded herself that he was an evil selfish bastard incapable of feeling remorse. Still, she found herself wanting to start up the conversation again. Perhaps the awkwardness of the quite made her uncomfortable and she just wanted the masochistic comfort that came from the familiarity of their verbal spats. And so she asked, "What does _'narhand ni minyeh, narhand ni atai' _mean?"

The Emperor looked up from his meal. He seemed rather startled by her question but his featured quickly melted into an expression that could only be described as 'pleased'. Thought, what exactly he was pleased about the princess could only guess. "Literally translated into your tong it means 'strength of enemy, strength of mine'. It's a prayer said when..." he paused as if thinking of a way to phrase his explanation that wouldn't make Fala cringe. Finally, he decided there was no gentle way to put it and continued. "... The idea is that when you drink the blood of an enemy or eat their flesh you take their strength into your body and their strength then becomes your own. _Narhand ni minyeh, narhand ni atai _is what we say when we do this."

He paused to let his lady digest the informations. Odd choice of words considering the topic of conversation. She looked a little sick and he wondered if she would vomit.

"And during your coronation...?" She pressed grimly. Her face looked pale and stricken but her eyes seemed to sparkle with an odd sort of morbid curiosity, as if she were both repulsed and yet allured by the sanguinary practices of his people.

Sincline sipped his wine before continuing. "That specific slave had been the ruler of his world before it joined the Empire. The belief is that the blood of an old leader would endow whoever drinks it with the wisdom and strength necessary to rule."

"I... see..."

"Are you alright? You look a bit peaky." Why did he sound genuinely concerned when he asked that? He had no business acting concerned over her! "Perhaps we should change the subject."

"I can hardly imagine there's a single topic between the two of us that could be any better than what we're already discussing." The Altean princess shot back, a little of the color coming back to her cheeks with the sharp retort.

"Well, I do have some good news for you." He announced deciding that it wouldn't be all that bad if he were the first to give in their little battle of wills. He would confirm for her what she had probably already guessed about Altea without her having to ask. That was kind, right? "You're no longer a hostage."

Her hand flew to her mouth. "You don't mean..."

"Your Steward surrendered last night." Sincline nodded his confirmation.

"No..." The softest of whispers. The Emperor would not have been able to hear it were it not for his superior alien hearing. Tears began to fall from her eyes, silent, subdued tears of defeat. Fala looked down at the spoon by her hand and wished it were a fork or knife. Something with a point or a blade... Her vision blurred with her tears, the princess gave in and buried her face in her hands. She wept for the fate of her planet, the lives of her people and... and she wept for herself. An image of Kogane's face appeared before her mind's eye and she wished furiously that he were here to wrap his arms around her, to comfort her. Someone did wrap their arms her, strong well muscled but lean arms clothed in soft fabric. Fala tried to pretend it was Kogane and not the man she knew it must be. But then he spoke, shattering her flimsy illusion.

"Do not be saddened, Fala." Sincline whispered into her hair. "You may not see it yet, but one day you will appreciate Altea being part of my Empire."

"I doubt that." The princess growled through her soft sobs.

His arms fell away from her shoulders and gripped the chair on which she sat, turning it and her to face him. The Emperor gently pulled her hands from her face and wiped her tears away with his black-gloved hand. Sincline looked her right in the eyes when he said, "What if I told you I would let you retain control over Altea? That I would let you rule the planet however you saw fit with little interference from me aside from the standard satellite outposts and Imperial head-quarters we place on every acquisitioned world."

Her eyes turned form saddened to wary and suspicious. "And what would I have to do for you in return?"

"Be my wife." He answered without skipping a beat. "Stay with me here on Galra, rule you're people from my Imperial capitol. Share my bed and my wealth, rule by my side and I'll give you your planet and then some."

She looked sick again...

...

"Have you decided on a place to hide until you can rescue the princess?" Raible asked. He looked grim, as did the Black Lion pilot to whom he spoke.

Kogane stood with his back strait, a travel bag packed with a spare change of cloths and a few weeks worth of food and medical supplies was thrown over his shoulder. The other three remaining pilots all held similar bags, each one having been hand packed by the loving (if somewhat outspoken and overbearing) hands of Hys. The men were all gathered in the Control Room waiting for the Steward to 'announce' Altea's surrender.

"The Leo Alliance will grant us asylum." The Golion chief nodded. "I was thinking we'd stay with Prince Alor on Planet Heracles."

The Strategist nodded his approval of this idea. Alor was Amue's younger brother and might possibly have a more efficient way of communicating with his sister's rebel unit on Galra than they did here on Altea. The planet was also far enough away so as to avoid any regular harassment from whatever Galran forces Sincline chooses to station on Altea but still close enough for the Lions to come and help should any trouble arise. It would also have the equipment and resources necessary to study and duplicate the technology of whatever Galran ship Ryou manages to steal. All things considered, it was a smart choice.

Raible clasped Kogane's hands in his own. The Black Lion pilot felt the Strategist press something cool and metallic into his palm. "Take this with you."

The Golion Chief opened his hand to see a pendent about half the size of his palm. It was mostly blue with a single gold cross in the center. "Blue Lion's key! But I would have thought it had been taken when the princess was captured."

"I can only guess that they tired but were unable to remove the key from Blue Lion when they captured her." The Strategist answered. "Either that, or the pilot that took her didn't think of it at all. Galran grunt soldiers aren't exactly known for their intelligence. In any case, we have no way of moving Blue Lion with out someone to pilot it. To keep it from being turned against us by Galra I want you to hold the key."

"Understood." The Black Lion pilot clutched it for a moment longer as if it were a delicate treasure before placing it in the pocket of his flight-suit. He then turned to the other three pilots. "Ready men?"

There was a subdued chorus of "Yeah." None of them were very happy with this idea. They did not like the prospect of leaving Altea to the mercy of an occupying Galran force. Kogane understood their feelings all to well and he wondered just how much (if any) of the planet would still resemble the beautiful utopia they had come to know and love when all this was said and done. When they got a new pilot for Blue Lion, when the devised a way of penetrating the energy field surrounding Galra, when they finally got Fala back.

Fala... Kogane felt inside his pocket for the key he had deposited there only seconds ago. '_Fala, I'll save you._' He thought. '_Just wait for me..._'

To the rest of the team he said. "Lets go!"

"Be sure to make allot of noise." Raible added.

"T'ch, that's not hard." Kurogane scoffed as Kogane brushed passed him and on into the Lion shaft. "Just don't get yourself killed Raible." He too turned and disappeared into the shaft. As did they all. And before the Strategist knew it, he was alone in the Control Room.

"Be careful boys." He muttered to the empty room. "Damn, I should have had one of them hit me!" He thought aloud a little to late to do anything. A little physical damage to his person would add an extra layer of plausibility to his story that they had hijacked the Lions instead of him letting them go. But oh well. No since in crying over spilled milk, as the saying went. He switched on the interplanetary comm. to report the "theft" of his Lions to his new masters.

An explosion rocked the Control Room just as the Galran communications officer answered the call. It was so perfect Raible had to wonder of the boys had planned it that way.

"What the blazes!" The Galran comm. officer exclaimed. He spoke Alrean, that was good. It made his little scene much easier to play out. "What going on over there, human?"

"I'll tell you what's going on!" The Strategist snarled with all the vehemence he could muster. "They stole my Lions!"

"What?" The poor comm. officer looked genuinely confused.

"The Lions! Golion!" Raible shouted back as if he thought the man hadn't heard. "They're making off with Golion!" He secretly wanted to congratulate himself. In his opinion he sounded like honest to goodness hysterical-old-man.

At the mention of 'Golion' the comm. officer's golden eyes bugged out of his green scaly head and he looked suddenly as panicked as Raible was trying to appear. "Go after them!" He exclaimed. "Send ships, fighters, troops. Get them back! The Emperor will not be pleased if his prize is lost!"

Yes, Sincline would be very displeased indeed at not being able to use Golion to subjugate and terrorize the galaxy, the Strategist just hoped the monster wouldn't take out his anger on Fala. To the comm. officer he said, "What would you like to do? Altea has no standing military. Golion was our only defense against you people! I have nothing to send! I can't get them back! My Lions! Oh, my Lions! What are you doing just sitting there! Where's your commanding officer? Are we not part of your Empire now? I demand my Lions be returned to me!"

"I... I'll speak to my Commander." The poor comm. officer leapt out of his chair and dashed out of view of the screen.

Even thought he was gone Raible maintained composure of a hysterical-old-man just in case there were others in a position to view the screen he was on that he just couldn't see. Inside, however, he relaxed just a little bit. Hopefully this would be enough to convince Sincline that Altea was not involved in the Lion's escaping. Hopefully the young Emperor would leave the planet alone (or at least some version of alone) and direct his attention elsewhere. Raible just hoped that this plan didn't make things harder for Fala back on the capitol.

...

Fala sat despondent in her suit. In the bedroom of her suit, actually. Her 'room' did not consist of one but rather several rooms, the bedroom in which she now sat, an adjacent bathroom that contained toilet, mirror sink and stand-in shower and a sitting room which connected to the main corridor that ran the length of the floor they were on. She sat, examining the weave of the pale pink material of her bed's hangings in an attempt to avoid dwelling on what she and Sincline had discussed at breakfast.

'_Stay with me... Share my bed... Be my wife.'_

She shook her head as if doing so could knock his voice from her mind. Be his wife! _Sleep_ with him! There was not a single idea in the whole galaxy that revolted her more than the idea of sharing a bed with Sincline, not just sharing a bed but allowing him to... '_Be my wife..._' She knew what a wife's duty was to her husband. Her more womanly education had been left to Hys who was a stringent prude and didn't always explain things clearly, thinking the vocabulary necessary for such explanations indecent. But she had managed to educate Fala on the most vital details of matrimony and what a woman was to expect. The princess was no looking forward to the idea of opening herself for the first time to the butcher whom had been threatening her planet and people for so long. But if she didn't submit to his... _attentions_...

_'__Your planet is practically helpless...' _

It was true, without her they couldn't form Golion. But beyond that Raible had signed over control of Altea to the Galra Empire, it was Sincline's now and he could do with it whatever he pleased. What would he do to it, to her people and their land if she didn't give him what he wanted? As she had been a hostage against Altea, Altea was now a hostage against her. As much as she did not want to admit it, Sincline had her trapped. With that realization she felt suddenly restless and wanted to move.

The princess rose from her sitting position on her bed and paced around the room. It was a cozy room with a wide window offering a view a barren and choked looking landscape as far as her eyes could see. Every now and again a short black tree would rise up from the parched and blackened land. They all looked withered and ancient, tall corpses of a long dead forrest. She wondered if the planet had at one time gotten sunlight, if the perpetual cloud cover hadn't always been there, if Galra had once been a place of light and life before whatever happened happened. It was a naive thought and she suspected it wasn't true but it gave her hope all the same (even thought she was more than sure that it was a false hope). She turned from the window back to her bedroom.

The bed was large enough to fit three people her size, fitted with sheets of a pale pink -her favorite color. She supposed that had she been in a normal relationship she would have been pleased that he knew her favorite color but because it was Sincline she was revolted by the idea that he knew so much about her and yet had spoken to her so little. The term 'stalker' rose to mind as did a few choice others that Hys would have blushed to hear her utter aloud. Oposite the bed was a closet that really should have been considered a room unto itself. Its two doors were set with tall mirrors in them and opened out to reveal a deep wardrobe with two rows of neatly hung gowns running its length on both sides. Elegant dresses of silks and velvets and other materials she couldn't name and all in such varied and vibrant colors, blues and pinks, golds and reds, orange and cream, silvers and greens, lavenders and burgundies... All tailored to her measurements, though she had been to see no tailor for fittings. Once again she was disturbed by just how much Sincline seemed to know about her.

Fala shut the closet doors and strolled into her sitting room. In the center of the room was an elegant wood coffee table surrounded by three chairs and a love-seat, thought why she would ever need so many seats when she had no friends on this entire planet she had no idea. Next to the door that connected the sitting room to the bedroom was a large bookcase. It was tall and wide and looked like it could contain more books than Fala had yet read in her lifetime. It was really a shame that it was practically empty. A grand total of two books sat pathetically on a middle shelf, the cases only occupants. After a quick examination of them Fala decided that they must be the only books printed in her language on the planet and that was why there were there. She supposed it could be considered a courtesy that he had tried to provided some form of entreatment for her in her own language but she found neither book to be of particular interest.

The princess sighed and turned to the exit. The moment she stepped out of her suit and into the open corridor she was surrounded by her faithful guards. Four of them, two in front, two behind, all silent and stoic women whom never tried to stop her from going anywhere and always followed her wherever she went. She just wished she knew if they were for her protection against the rest of Sincline's people or to keep her from attempting to escape.

'_Stay with me...'_

The heterogeneous hybrid's words played over in her ears again, as clear as if he's just whispered them in her ear and she searched desperately for something to once again distract herself.

Down the hall at one end there was a communal bath chamber. The Altean princess had been confused at first when she had first been shown to her suit to find that her private bathroom offered only a shower and no bathtub. She would have thought that the luxury of the rest of the suit would have extended to the bathroom as well. That was until she had learned of the communal bath at the end of the hall. This floor was reserved for the royal family and the royal family only so the only one's with access to the bath (aside from servants and slaves) were Sincline and herself. She shuddered at the idea of him walking in on her bathing whenever he pleased and she vowed never to take a bath for as long as she lived on Galra. Showers for life! She turned in the opposite direction heading to the other end of the corridor, her guards falling into step around her.

Immediately adjacent to Fala's rooms was Sincline's suit. She hurried past this door not wanting him to suddenly appear for whatever reason. She had no desire to see him. After Sincline's suit was a room he had called his 'private study', his office if you would. He had an Imperial Office three floors down where he managed the task of actually ruling his Empire, this private study was for his independent ventures, the one's that fed his private accounts and not the Imperial coffers. Fala was just a little curious what he did in there and she found her hand resting on the intricately tooled door handle. She attempted to turn it only to find the room locked. She sighed again and continued on down the corridor, scrutinizing the place, actually examining the castle that would in all likelihood be her home for the rest of her life.

'_No.'_ She reminded herself forcefully. _'Not the rest of my life. Just until the Lions can come and rescue me. Just until Kogane comes to rescue me! I'm just passing the time until Kogane..._'

'_Be my wife... Share my bed...' _Her capture's voice cut into the princess' thoughts and an unwelcome and disturbing idea formed in her mind. What would Kogane think of how she had had to 'pass the time' of her captivity? What would he think of her knowing she had slept with their sworn enemy? The Blue Lion pilot felt the beginnings of tears forming behind her eyes but she held them in. She had already cried once today, she would not do it a second time. She refused to be one of those 'weepy' women who cried at the slightest provocation and never did anything useful. She would do something useful, she would memorize the layout of Demon Castle so that she could be of use when her rescue finally came.

At the end of the corridor opposite the communal bath was an odd room indeed, the only word that seemed to fit is was 'shrine'. It was a perfect circle, even it's single wooden door had been curved to fit the curve of the room. Inside the room on short pedestals and set against the wall were several statues. Each came up to Fala's breast and each was of a different Galran and in the center of the room standing alone was a single larger statue. Naked accept for a cape that was draped over only one shoulder and fell across the chest and a sword belt around his waist, and in his hands the figure held a scepter and a globe. At first Fala had be repelled by the statues alien nudity but slowly she found the she was actually curious to look at them for longer and longer whenever she did.

The captain of her guard, the only one of her guars that ever spoke to her (and possibly the only one of her guards that spoke her language at all) had explained that this was a small representation of the major gods in the Galran pantheon. The large figure in the center of the room was Menagroth, the king of the gods. Those on pedestals around the wall were those that made up the first circle in his court of the Netherworld. The Captain had gone on to name all the gods as well and explain what they were the god of, but Fala had since forgotten all their names. They were all so strange and alien to her ears.

The princess circled the room, examining the statues of the gods, noting that the only difference between the male and female gods was their genitalia and the females tended to have wider hips. But they were all completely flat-chested, _completely_, they did not even have nipples. Of course the Galran people did not suckle their young so why would their gods and creators have need for breasts or nipples. The idea was both disturbing and yet somehow fascinating. She was just a little frightened by how she was so intrigued by the alien figures. Hys would throw a fit if she ever caught Fala looking at such racy artwork.

She straitened and turned from the room, careful to shut the door behind her and headed for the lift.

The floor directly below the royal residential suits was a recreation area of sorts but the only spot she had ever seen any play there was fencing. Not the tame, safe little foile fencing they practiced on Altea but all out, hard-core saber fencing with real swords that caused real wounds and even death. She did not stop on that floor today. Below the recreation area was the floor reserved for guests, important dignitaries, visiting nobles, etc. She did not stop there either. The third floor down from the royal suits was the business part of the castle. It held the main audience chamber, the throne room, the legislative office, the interplanetary commerce office and the Emperor's office. This was to this that she was headed.

Fala did not want to marry Sincline. She did not want to sleep with him. She did not want to share a bed with him. Hell! She didn't even want to share her meals with him! But he was holding he planet and her people hostage. If she didn't give in to his demands she would burn the lands, boil the seas and enslave, torture and/or kill her people (not necessarily in that order). As much as she did not want to be his wife she did not want that to happen to her country more. It was the age old question 'the needs of the many versus the needs of the individual'. Well, Fala was an individual and she decided that the needs of her people far out weighed her needs. Or her wants...

'_Kogane...'_

The Emperor looked up from his desk when she entered the office unannounced. Her guards did not follow her inside but waited dutifully just outside the door and Fala found that she suddenly wanted their company. There was some comfort to be had in being surrounded by four well armed silent body guards, not that Sincline posed any mortal danger to her. True, he was indeed a dangerous man but the threat he posed to her was not against her own life but rather the lives of others -her planet, her people.

"Sincline," she began, her voice taking on a tone of confidence and command that she did not feel, "in exchange for my being your wife you will give me full control over Altea as a wedding gift."

The heterogeneous hybrid set aside the document he had been reading, not a draft printed on paper like the one's Raible often had her look over for approval, the thing he set aside was a tablet of plastic and metal that looked almost like a computer screen. To one side of his desk were arranged several small disks all about half the size of her palm set in neat trays. These, she assumed where to be loaded into a disk-drive in Sincline's tablet for him to read. It struck her then that Galra had no paper. What a silly mundane thing to think about at the moment. But it made sense. Galra received no sunlight from their sun do to the ever-present cloud cover, no sunlight, no trees, no trees, no paper. She thought back to the two books that sat on the shelf in her sitting room and suddenly wondered if they were more of a precious commodity on this world than she had supposed.

"No." The Emperor's voice ended her musings and returned Fala to the conversation she had come to have.

"You lied then." The princess accused without missing a beat. "At breakfast you said you'd give me Altea."

"I said I'd let you rule Altea with _little interference_ from me." He corrected. "Altea will remain subject to my Empire. And I will not give you control over it just yet."

"And you will give me this control upon the signing of our marriage contract?" Fala nearly choked on the words 'our marriage'.

"No." Sincline said again. "I will, however, give you control over Altea after you have been married to me for a time. Say... as a one year anniversary present?"

"Unacceptable!" She all but shouted.

"Non-negotiable." He shot back, an amused smile crept across his lips and the princess did not like it one bit.

_'Your planet is practically helpless...' _His words spoken in the Arena box seat played through her head once more and she had to concede that she really wasn't in a position to argue the matter. It was with a subdued air and low voice that she asked, "An Altean year or a Galran year?"

"A Galran year."

"To long." The planet Galra was slightly farther from its its sun than Altea was from its sun. As such, Galra's year was longer than Altea's by roughly two months. Not very long, but longer than Fala was willing to spare when her people's lives were at stake.

"Non-negotiable." He said again. "Come now, Fala, it won't be all that bad. Your world won't stop spinning if you let it be for a year. And I only want to time to work on our marriage."

"What's there to work on? I'd be nothing but a glorified pleasure slave." The princess snarled bitterly. Kogane's image once again rose to the forefront of her mind and she clenched her hands into fists, her nails biting into the palms of her hands.

Sincline leaned back in his chair. "Ah, Fala, you will be many things, but a slave is not one of them."

"I'd rather be a slave than your wife." She snarled.

"Don't say that. You might find that you like being Empress of the most powerful Empire the universe has ever known."

"I will never enjoy power gained on the backs of slaves and the blood of innocents."

...


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own either Voltron or its original Japanese Golion. Such is the property of their original creators and English dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: For some reason, I don't like this chapter. I don't know why. I started it exactly how I planned to start it and ended it exactly where I wanted it to end. All the important events that I wanted to occur in this chapter occurred, by all accounts this should be a good, chapter. I just hate it. So, I'm asking you, as the reader, maybe you can figure out what the hell I did wrong that makes me dislike this chapter so much so that I can improve upon it next time. Please and thank you.

-Renkon )

The Sindariin

Chapter Six:

General Gibra, Sinclin's right hand man appeared walking briskly as Fala was leaving the afore mentioned Emperor's office. She followed him with her eyes, noting the strained tension behind his golden pupil-less eyes and turned to follow him back into the office, curious over what could make a man with such refined military discipline so tense... and promptly had the door shut in her face.

On the other side of the door Sincline looked back up from the same document he's been reading when his lovely bride-to-be had first interrupted intruded on him. He frowned at his General in irritation, "What is it now?"

Gibra clicked his heels together and saluted with military discipline hoping that protocol would protect him from the metaphorical shrapnel his Emperor's explosive temper was about to unleash upon hearing his news. "We have a problem on Altea."

The heterogeneous hybrid raised one chalk-white eyebrow. "Go on."

Nervous at his Emperor's seemingly calm exterior the General continued cautiously. "It appears that upon hearing the news of Altea's surrender the Lion pilots became enraged and... and highjacked the Lion mechs and escaped."

Gibra fell silent, keeping his eyes fixed on Sincline as the young Emperor digested this information and wondered if he was about to louse his life in the younger man's effort to vent his rage.

"Four men somehow managed to steal _five_ Lions...?" Out of context the question might have sounded idiotic but Sincline had asked it in a low deadly tone that warned the General that he already had an idea of what was going on and he was already figuring out a plan.

"N-no. It seems that Blue Lion remains on Altea." Gibra answered.

The Emperor remained stoic, his expression melting into an unreadable mask of bland indifference that the General knew only hid his sovereign's deeper roiling emotions. It was the same expression he had worn when dealing with his father aboard the _Angband_. It was the face he wore when he didn't want anyone to guess his thoughts. "My father destroyed their cannon, they cannot attack the planet directly..." He said this more to himself than to Gibra, then to the General, "What was their last _known_ course vector?"

Here the General hesitated fearing his king's reaction. "We don't know, Your Eminence. We didn't have any regiment stationed on Altea at the time and the Alteans did not think to track their course."

Gibra held his breath as Sincline pushed back his chair and stood. His eyes unconsciously flicked down to the young Emperor's sword-belt noting that the deadly lazon blade was present and within reach of the volatile despot before returning his attention back to the man himself. The heterogeneous hybrid began pacing the room in agitation. "They must be hiding out on another rebel planet, one of the members of their pathetic 'Leo Alliance', feh."

He looked like he was about to say more but at that moment an aide from the legislative office entered with a new tray of datadisks for the Emperor to read over. But the poor aide didn't even make it half-way to the desk. Sincline in his rage over the loss of the Lions snarled in frustration and seized his sword, slashing the blameless aide across the chest from shoulder to thigh. The man fell to the floor dead, his blood spilling out to seep into the carpet on which he had fallen. The violence and blood-letting soothed his immediate ire but his wrath still burned silently under the surface of his once again placid expression. His eyes focused on the tray of datadisks now scattered on the floor.

"Pick those up before this idiot's blood makes them unreadable."

The General rushed to comply with the order.

"You will deploy troops to Altea in case the Golion pilots attempt to steal Blue Lion as well. Four capitol ships, six fighter squads to each and some death-black beastmen and mecha-black beastmen." He sat back down behind his desk looking suddenly tired. He pressed a button on the side of his desk and a holoprojector appeared. He called up a miniature map of the galaxy and a galactic calendar. "The planets closets to Altea at this point in the galactic rotation are Jarra, Amazone and Doriath. They wouldn't try hiding on one of our own planets but deploy another regiment to Doriath just in case. Kogane is just the sort of pragmatic bastard that might try it for no other reason than to piss me off. Send regular patrols to Jarra and Amazone as well to check for signs of the Lions. Maybe shake down the locals a little bit... On second thought, don't make the patrols regular, search them at random intervals so that they can't adapt to any sort of schedule, that way you'll be more likely to catch them off guard."

Gibra set the tray of data disks on the desk where they belonged, his hand passing through the map, temporarily distorting the image. "Yes, Your Eminence."

The General was about the leave when Sincline called him back. "One more thing, Gibra." He rested his elbows on the desk, studying the map. "Deploy a spy satellite to Heracles as well. Its pretty far from Altea at this point in the galactic rotation and would take them several weeks to get there but..." But its that bitch Amue's home planet! "... its the only one in their Alliance that has its own space fleet. Its the only one capable of offering the Lions fuel and maintenance."

"Yes sir!" Gibra saluted and hurried to carry out his sovereign's orders.

"And send someone to clean that up." He added, referring to the aide lying dead on the carpet.

...

Callous calculating sapphire eyes studied maps and schematics of Demon Castle. One strand of golden hair falling out of place and into her eyes as she ran her hands through her hair in frustration. It was approaching a week since her cousin had been taken prisoner by the Galran forces, almost a week since Sincline staged his coup, nearly a week that Fala had been at the mercy of the deluded sex-obbsessed sadist. Princess Amue groaned in frustration and once again ran her nails through her long flaxen hair. She had been pouring over maps, schematics and photos of the Imperial Capitol since she first heard news of the Altean princess' capture and had not yet found a way of rescuing her short of a full frontal assault. In her aggravation the Heraclesian princess threw an autoreader projecting a three-dementional floor plan of the castle across the room. It hit the far will with a shrill _clank_ and clattered to the floor, its projection flickering out.

It was at that moment that Ryou chose to enter. The young rebel leader gave his comrade an appraising glance before walking over to the felled autoreader and picked the battered and abused device up from its resting place. "Don't break these." He said. "Its hard to get new ones out here."

He walked over to stand beside the princess placing the battered autoreader on the desk.

"I don't know what to do, Ryou." She muttered gravely. "When I think about what that monster will do to her, what he probably already _has_ done to her..." She trembled violently at the memory of the traumatic time she'd spent as Sincline's... fill-in. There were other words that described what she had been better, 'prisoner', 'pleasure-slave', 'whore', but that wasn't what she had really been to him, no. Amue had been Fala's stand-in, the resemblance between the two of them was eery and it was for her resemblance to the Altean princess that Amue had been forced to endure the Galran prince's (now Emperor's) sexual attentions.

'_You'll have to do until I can have Fala.'_

She buried her face in her hands at the memory of his words. Amue knew better than anyone just what a woman was to endure when they were unlucky enough to attract Sincline's attention. Ryou wrapped his arms around her to offer what comfort he could and Amue jumped at the contact, ever since her experience she had felt irrationally anxious and frightened by actions of intimacy by men, even friends like Ryou.

"Please don't." She whispered.

"Amue..." He whispered, only tightening his hold on her slight frame. "Amue, you need to calm down. You're not going to help Fala this way, you need rest, you need to relax."

"I'll relax once I know my cousin is safe!" The princess snarled back. "Now let go of me! You know I don't like to be touched!"

The young rebel respectfully released the beautiful warrior-princess. "I have an alternate solution for you." He said changing from the soft soothing tone of a friend and switching to the confident commanding voice of a military commander. He withdrew another autoreader from his pocket and handed it to the princess. "A message from Altea."

"The Lions are coming to attack the capitol!" Amue gasped in hopeful glee.

"Er.. no..." Ryou shifted uncomfortably. "Just watch it."

The Heraclesian princess switched on the autoreader and a small hologram of Raible the Strategist appeared. "Princess Amue, Shirogane Ryou," the transparent blue-tinted image of Raible bowed politely. "As you know by now, our own Princess Fala has been captured by the Galra Empire. As anxious as I am for her safety and wish to see her returned to us, I must urge you, please _do not _attempt a rescue! Altea has temporarily surrendered to the Empire in order to buy her safety and I fear that any rescue attempt would only result in aggravating this delicate situation."

"What the _fuck_!" Amue snarled and nearly slammed the delicate information storage device on her desk.

Ryou placed his own hand over hers in an attempt to sooth her volatile temper. "Listen to the rest of what he has to say." He rewound the recording enough for her to hear the part they had spoken over.

"... this delicate situation. Instead, I ask that you steal a ship for us. The massive Space Cannon was destroyed in Daibazaal's attack and without it the Lions have no way of either attacking the Galran capitol or rescuing Fala. [Green Lion Pilot] thinks he could devise a new way of penetrating the barrier if he could study a Galran ship. I would also like to remind you that we are now also without a pilot for Blue Lion and cannot form Golion. Shirogane Ryou, your older brother was the first pilot of Blue Lion before his untimely death. If you can steal a ship and deliver it to the rest of the Golion Team you will be solving both our problems at once."

The image flickered and Raible's message began again. Amue switched it off.

"So, you'll be leaving then?" She looked up at him, sadness trembling behind her sapphire eyes.

"I'd like to." He admitted. "And in any other situation I would be, but... you've just been killing yourself over these half-baked rescue plans for Fala, I think you need to be the one to do it more. You need to be the one to pilot Blue Lion."

"You mean it!" Any time either of them ever wanted to do anything they always had to argue about it seemingly endlessly before it ever actually got done. Both wanting to go alone and not put the other in danger. The fact that Ryou was not only letting her take this mission but actually suggesting that she do meant more to her than all the stars in the heavens. It was his way of admitting that she was a warrior in her own right, independent and self reliant, not the delicate and fragile princess that he'd been treating her like since she'd first joined his rebel group. In her elation Amue leaped from her chair and threw her arms around him.

The young warrior was thrown off balance by her outburst and the two of them clattered to the floor.

"I could kiss you." Amue admitted now sitting in his lap.

"I thought you didn't like being touched?" He shot back.

"Whoever said you could touch me while I do it?" She grinned wickedly while gazing into his ebony eyes. "Now shut-up and take it."

The Heraclesian princess pressed her lips gently, almost hesitantly, against Ryou's. One hand reached up to stroke his thick dark hair while the other snaked around his back to hold him closer to her. She didn't pull away when he began to kiss back and the rebel leader took this as a sign of progress. He parted his lips slightly, inviting her to deepen the kiss, when she did not he did. His tong darted out to lick across her lower lip, requesting entrance... And it was then that she pulled away.

"No." She whispered softly wiping her mouth. "No tong, never any tong. I hate saliva."

Ryou sighed in disappointment. He cared a great deal about Amue. He enjoyed her company, her quick wit, her calm composure in tense situations, her burning passion and commitment to the fight against the Empire. She was radiant and breathtaking in the midst of battle, his own Warrior-Princess. It pained him to see the lasting scars that Sincline's rape had left on her heart. The anxiety and stress the trauma had caused her was the one thing standing between them and he would be lying if he said that he wasn't frustrated by her frigidity, but beyond her unwillingness for physical contact he just plain hated seeing her in pain.

"Why won't you tell me about it?" Asked Ryou.

She scooted away from him, folding her legs under her Amue sat on her knees and wrapped her arms about her shoulders as if shielding herself from an unseen threat.

"Amue...?"

"Can we not talk about this, please?"

"I might be able to help." He pressed reaching a hand out to tuck a stray strand of fair-hair behind her ear.

She smacked his hand away in sudden and inexplicable anger. "What could you possibly do!" She snarled. "You can't help me any more than you can turn back time and prevent my rape, or stoped Sincline from using me as a hostage against Alor, or bring Samson back to life! No, Ryou, you can't help me."

Her rejection hurt, but what else had he expected? It was the same answer whenever he asked. 'No, I won't tell you.' 'You don't want to know.' 'I don't want you to see me that way.' 'You can't help me.' He cared about her so much and wished there was something he could do or say to sooth her injured heart but that was a battle field he was unfamiliar with and was unskilled in fighting. He didn't know what to do or say to help her. So, he did the only thing that he could do, he changed the subject as she had requested.

"You're going to regroup with the Golion Team to pilot Blue Lion." He said standing and grinned back down at her. "But don't you dare think I'm gonna let you break into an Imperial ship-yard and steal a ship without _my_ help."

...

Sincline had tried to return to the business of actually ruling his Empire after Gibra had left but found that he could not concentrate. He expected to, any moment, hear an alarm sound through out the castle, the Lions were attacking. He imagined Kogane inside his Black Lion cockpit shouting a battle cry and tearing through the very walls to rescue the princess. He imagined Fala running into his arms and full-bore away from the Emperor whom was willing to lay the galaxy at her feet. She would choose a slave over him. Sincline snarled in his frustration slamming his datapad down on the desk and stood. The slaves that were busy cleaning up the body of the dead legislative aide all jumped in sudden fear. He stalked passed them, ignoring their terrified stares and presence entirely, storming down the corridor the anxious Emperor headed for the throne room.

He stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to the dais and gazed up at the Golden Throne as he had done so many times under the rule of his father. Had the old man still been alive and in power Sincline would be enduring a rough verbal reprimand by the accompaniment of various heavy objects being thrown at him and it felt suddenly odd to not have it happening to him now. It was actually a little disorienting and the young Emperor did not like the idea that he might actually _miss_ his father's abuse.

'_You're a weak, pathetic fool!'_

Daibazaal's voice echoed through his mind and Sincline once again snarled in his frustration. "Shut-up!"

His father's mocking laughter echoed through his ears and the heterogeneous hybrid wondered if he was not being haunted by the felled former Emperor. He strode defiantly up the steps of the dais and sat upon the Golden Throne.

"Its mine." He informed the empty chamber, his gloved hands possessively curling around the ends of the armrests. "Its mine now, not yours. I am not weak! You were the weak one old man."

The Emperor glared down at his empty throne room. Memories of his father glaring down at him in the exact same way from the exact same position played over and over again before his mind's eye. He saw himself kneeling before the dais entreating his father for forgiveness of whatever the newest was in his long list of failed attempts to defeat Golion. He remembered his father's mawkish laughter, the pain of a heavy gold wine goblet colliding with his forehead, the sting of the fermented blood and alcohol in his eyes, his father's merciless heckling. Sincline had always believed that Daibazaal had been the problem, he had convinced himself that if the old man was just out of the way then everything would be fine and perfect.

But it wasn't. The Golion pilots were still just as much of a nuisance as always, he might have Altea in his Empire now but so long as their 'heroes' remained alive and free they would never bend to his rule, they would never submit as willingly and readily as others have. He had Fala finally... ah, Fala. Yes, his lovely lady lioness. She had looked breathtaking in his office, her eyes full of the same passion and fire they held while in the midst of a battle. It had been exhilarating to see that inner fire wilt and dim under the realization that she had no choice but to bend to his will. He relished the fact that she was finally wholly and truly _his_, that he could keep her fire, passion and drive and yet still be able to bend her to his demands. So long as he had Altea he would have Fala and all would be right with the universe.

He was not weak. If he was able to take a woman as willful and headstrong as his bride-to-be, a woman whom was his equal in rank and station and force her to submit to him then he was not weak. Sincline _fin Isil,_ no, he would be Sincline _fin Narhand_, Sincline the Strong. He would find the rouge Golion pilots and kill them, he would find Kogane and kill him with his own two hands. He would feast on the man's flesh and drink of his blood, he would take Kogane's strength and make it his own. When Sincline was done with him there wouldn't be anything left of Kogane Akira, pilot of Black Lion and Captain of the Golion Team, no. There would only be Emperor Sincline _fin Narhand_ and the tale of his great victory over the greatest enemy the Empire has ever known.

Comforted by this thought he rose from the Golden Throne and went in search of his bride. It was high time she started fulfilling her wifely duties. He had waited long enough.

...

Fala had nothing to do after leaving Sincline's office. She had no friends on Galra, had already explored all of the castle that she wished to explore and highly doubted Sincline would have allowed her to go to the areas she didn't wish to see. She also doubted she wouldn't be allowed to leave the castle. And so the Altean princess had retreated into her chambers for a lack of any other place to go. She paced around her spacious sitting room contemplating the dreary and hopeless future that had been set out before her. Marriage to Sincline was less appealing to her than having her appendix removed with a rusty spoon. If she could just survive it until Kogane and the rest of the Lions came to rescue her. Just until Kogane...

_'Its been almost a week. Where are you, Kogane?'_ She though.

As if sensing her thoughts and wishing to put an end to them her hated husband-to-be entered the chamber without so much as a knock of courtesy. Fala froze in her pacing, never in all the time that she had been living (if you could call this 'living') on Galra had he invaded her suit. The Altean princess had come to think of it as a sanctuary almost. It was a bit of a jarring reminder that this was his planet, his castle, he ruled here and he could do as he pleased. Another wave of revulsion shuddered through her at the realization, she had no safe havens from him so long as she was on Galra. Still she raised her chin with regal pride and said, "Entering a lady's chamber without announcement or permission may be acceptable in Galran society, Sincline, but I will not tolerate it."

To this he just grinned in malicious amusement.

The smile unnerved her but she continued. "If I am to be Empress of your Empire I expect to be treated with the proper difference. You will not enter my rooms without first knocking and _requesting permission_."

"How cute."

He continued to smile and crossed the distance between them. His black-gloved hand closed around her wrist and her body was pulled into his. The Galran Emperor held the Altean princess in a vice-like embrace, gazing down at her with a mingled expression of amusement, affection and lust playing across his exotic alien features. Sincline leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in a searing kiss. His tong darted aggressively out, forcing her lips open. Fala moaned in shocked protest and struggled against his hold. Her hand flew up to collide with the side of his face in a loud _smack _that echoed through the sitting room chamber. He withdrew his tong and leaned back to glare at her, frustration and barely contained rage clear on his face. His hand once again closed around her wrist, this time with enough pressure to bruise.

"Do not ever strike me again." The heterogeneous hybrid ordered in a soft threatening tone that promised pain and punishment if she ever dared to disobey. "I think I have been rather tolerant of your attempts to gut me with knives and table forks, but as soon as we are married I expect you to treat _me_ with the 'proper difference'."

"Can I hold you to the same standard?" Fala asked, painfully wrenching her wrist free from his grip and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Sincline was momentarily insulted that she would imply that he would ever strike her in anger but then he recalled his own parents and how his mother had truly died. His father did not hesitate to beat those around him, abuse was a daily anger management practice for him, not even his own son was immune. The old man had even gone so far as to kill the mother of his heir for her disobedience. Sincline himself had a habit of killing those around him when his temper flared. Could he really promise Fala that he would never hit her in anger?

"I would never hurt you!" He snarled with more passion than he meant to let slip through his voice. It made him wonder if he weren't trying to convince himself more than Fala.

"You already did." She shot back. "By threatening my home, my country, my people, and my friends you hurt me."

He let out a snort of derision.

"You may not count emotional hurt as actual hurt, fine." The princess lifted her wrist to his eyes showing the dark bruise that was already forming there as the result of his angry grip. "You've still already hurt me. Why should I not fight back? Isn't that one of the things this barbaric society of yours values so very much? Strength?"

Sincline growled low in his throat and realized that he had no retort for her. It was true that within Galran society strength was valued over all else and strength she had. It was one of the things that attracted him to her so much. Her strength of will and inner fire... he wanted to possess it, bend it to his will, make it his own. He wanted her to submit to him and turn that passion and fire she had towards him, preferably towards him in an amiable way. The young Emperor had come to indulge in an interlude of hot and sweaty love-making but now he found that he was no longer in the mood.

Without answering her question he released Fala from his vice-like embrace and exited her chambers as suddenly as he had entered them without so much as a word. And a very confused Altean princess was left standing speechless in the middle of her siting room.

...


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: Ya know, a while ago -for like, chapter 3 I think- someone posted a review wondering why and how Sincline had managed to control himself enough to not bend Fala over and take her the moment he could. It didn't occur to me until just starting this chapter that most Voltron/Golion fans seem to believe that he would dismiss his harem once he got her. In almost all of the fictions I've read on this site he gets rid of them in one way or another almost as soon as the story throws he and Fala/Allura together. Either that or they just sort of disappear altogether without the author ever mentioning them at all. I more than understand authors' reasons for doing this, having extra women hanging around complicates a story. But I've seen nothing in the Golion series to suggest that he would do this. Swinging back to the review I got a while back, the reason he was able to "control" himself was because, while he was not getting any sex from Fala, he was still getting sexed-up by his obedient little Collection. )

The Sindariin

Chapter Seven:

Emperor Sincline stormed through the halls of his castle once again angry and frustrated. He snarled at passers by in the halls, noblemen and slaves alike, on his way to the rooms given to his harem, his Collection. The double doors of his harem were thrown open with enough force to make them slam against the stone walls causing a frightening loud _bang_. There was a startled rustling of fabric as a room full of women suddenly bolted to their feet to present themselves to their master. Sincline slammed the doors shut again behind him, producing a second resounding _bang_. HIs eyes focussed on the woman closest to him, a terrified looking brunet. Her hair was dark and strait, not wavy and golden like Fala's; her figure short and curvy rather than tall and lithe, her eyes dark and slanted instead of blue and round. In short, she looked nothing like Fala and that was exactly what he wanted at that moment, a woman whom did not remind him in any way of his beautiful bride-to-be.

"On your knees." The heterogeneous hybrid snarled.

The trembling brunet sank nervously to kneel before her master and glanced back up at him in fear of what was to happen next.

Sincline slowly unbuckled his belt relishing the look of unmasked terror on the girl's face and the scent of fear that wafted about the room. He enjoyed the power he had over these women, how onely and wholly he could control them with just the knowledge that he _could_ hurt them if he wanted to. That was what Fala needed to learn, that he could hurt her more than she dared dread he could, but that he _wouldn't_ so long as she was obedient and did as she was told. If she submitted to him as this brunet was so readily doing right now. The Emperor unlaced the fly of his pants and slid the fabric down his narrow hips just enough to allow the girl access to his partially stiff member.

"Now suck!" He commanded.

...

The Slusvaan ship yard was constructed on top of a wide mesa several latitudes from Demon Castle. A company of dark figures flitted from shadow to shadow moving ever closer to the yard's massive landing platform. Princess Amue and Ryou along with a small regiment of their rebel troops slunk towards a squat Galran freighter. The freighter they had decided was the best of the ones available to steal for the Golion Team. It was large enough to be equipped with its own distortion field, the device that allowed ships to pass through the energy barrier that surrounded the planet Galra; but it was not a combat ship and wouldn't be seen as a threat to whatever Alliance planet Amue ended up rendezvousing with the Golion Team on.

Ryou halted the party behind a storage building that stood between the control tower and the main hangar. He turned to Amue, placing both his hands on her shoulders. "You be carful."

"Don't start treating me like a fragile little doll again!" The princess shot back in irritation.

"I just... I worry about you." The restless warrior admitted. Then he composed himself and returned to the collected and confident rebel leader he was supposed to be. "You head for the ship while we take-over the control tower. Once you and your crew have cleared the atmosphere we'll blow the complex to hide the theft."

"And piss off that bastard SIncline." Amue grinned back. The destruction of one of his ship yards would deal a decently sized blow to the fell Emperor's war effort. But then she remembered who the heterogeneous hybrid held as his captive and she sobered. "I just hope he doesn't take it out on Fala."

"She'll be fine." Ryou assured her in a voice that did not hold the confidence his words were meant to carry.

The party divided itself into two groups, one slinking with the Princess Amue toward the targeted freighter, the other followed Ryou to the base of the control tower. Amue flattened her back against a vacant service vehicle, her eyes on Ryou's team as they fitted a wad of blasting jelly to the locking mechanism of the tower's only door. He turned toward her and silently signed a count down, the moment the door was blown she and her team were to rush the freighter in the confusion while all the Galran personnel would be running toward the under-siege control tower. 'Three... Two... _One_!'

Amue didn't wait to hear the loud resounding explosion, she launched herself sprinting toward the freighter the moment he had signed 'one'. The rest of her crew was hard pressed to keep up with the princess' motivated pace. She slammed the heal of her hand down on the hatch release button of the freighter's main hatch and a loading ramp slid down from the main entrance.

"In!" She shouted at her crew. All around her she heard shouts in the harsh language of the Galran people and out the corner of her eye Amue saw the short light-bursts of shots being fired and she looked back to see Ryou and his men ducking for cover inside the doorway of the control tower. Her heart jumped into her throat at the idea of him being injured or killed in this fight but she couldn't worry about that right now. She had a mission to complete as did he, they both understood the stakes and so with was with a heavy heart she turned back to the freighter and sprinted up the gangplank.

The bridge was smaller than the slaver she had stolen in her first failed escape attempt from Sincline's evil clutches but the controls looked similar enough. Amue sat down in the captain's chair and called up a status report of on the ship. She scrolled through diagrams of various ship's parts and features briefly explained in short paragraphs of Galran text. Amue was no great language scholar but between her time as Sincline's prisoner and her time as a rebel leader living on Galra she had learned enough to understand what it was she was reading. Everything checked out flight-worthy.

"Helmsman, take us up!"

"Aye aye, ma'am."

As the freighter began to rise the princess pulled up a live view of the battle going on in the ship yard below them. Ryou's skirmish seemed to have moved from the door of the tower to inside the tower itself where she could not see him. Amue didn't know if this knowledge was another worry or a comfort to her, but she reminded herself that she couldn't think on it now. The freighter's sudden movement had not gone unnoticed and some Galran soldiers had broken off from the group attempting to subdue Ryou's team and were heading toward their yellow hooked T-fighters.

"We'll have company soon. Be ready for some fancy flying. What's the maneuverability on this thing?"

"We'll find out, Your Highness." The woman at the helm answered gravely.

The fighters were of course much faster and much more maneuverable than the bulky freighter but the freighter had better armor and stronger hull reinforcements. The woman piloting smashed the first of the hooked T-fighters with the side of the ship and sent poor broken grunt fighters puttering backwards and sideways to collide with two of his buddied in a brilliant display of pyrotechnic idiocy. Upon seeing this little maneuver the fighters hung back from the ship itself and attempted to disable its engines instead. The freighter rocked and shook as Galran lazers and missiles began chipping away at the thick carbon-fiber plating that protected its rear thrusters.

"Take evasive action!" Amue shouted while calling up a schematic of the engines to see just what damage was being done.

The pilot pulled up sharp of the stick-wheel and the freighter began to climb skyward, their own little parade of T-fighters still on their tail blasting as they ascended. The pilot did a few zig-zaggy turns and twists, making the moves more elaborate as they rose higher and higher into the atmosphere. Her plan was to stay alive until they reached the cloud bank and then louse the fighters in the haze. Suddenly, they heard a nearby explosion and brassed themselves to be once again thrown about the bride, but the ship wasn't buffeted in the least.

"That didn't hit _us_!" The pilot exclaimed. "What was that?"

Amue switched her screen from the engine readout to a live feed of the battle outside and gasped in relief. The ship yard's control tower was firing on its own fighters. That could only mean one thing. "Its Ryou! Ryou's taken the tower!"

Releif bubbled up from the pit of her stomach calming tense nerves and soothing away the fear and concern she had hidden in her heart for the ebony haired rebel leader. If Ryou and his team were now in control of the tower's main control room then she had nothing to worry about. She leaned back in her captain's chair and gave the order, "All ahead full! As soon as we clear the planet's gravity well plot a course for Heracles, the moment we're past the energy barrier punch it."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

Amue listened to the harsh sounds of the battle that was quickly becoming a rout all around the ship and felt safe and guarded. Ryou was providing cover fire for the freighter so that she didn't have to worry about both commanding a battle and an escape at the same time. She closed her eyes and saw him in her mind's eye, standing in the center of the control room shouting orders at his gunners to destroy all the enemy fighters but be carful to leave her freighter untouched. She saw him turn to another few members of his team and ask for a report on rigging the bombs to blow-up the installation. She imagined the strait set of his jaw and calm calculating eyes brighten with a smirk of triumph as one of his men would give him a favorable report. He could be quite dashing when he was happy.

The ship's comm. buzzed, alerting the bridge that they were being hailed. Amue called it up on the main screen fully prepared to begin trading insults and threats with one of the Galran pilots. Instead Shirogane Ryou's handsome face appeared. He stood in the center of the tower's control room, as she had imagined he did only second before. Behind him two members of his team were hard at work rigging a remote detonator to a large wad of sticky blasting-jelly that had been set at the junction between the floor and wall. The princess could see that he was pleased but none of the feeling showed beyond his eyes. Ryou was collected and commanding when he said, "We've cleared away most of your tails and the rest are coming back here to bother me. As soon as you clear the planet punch it and get the hell out of here."

This Amue already knew and she didn't need him to tell her but she supposed giving obvious orders like that helped him feel like he was in control of what was otherwise an uncontrollable situation. And so she humored him and said, "Roger."

Now he shifted uncomfortably. "This might be the last time we get to talk with each other for a long time. It might even be the last time we see each other at all." The young rebel leader averted his eyes, then looked back at her uncertainly then looked away again when he said, "Incase we never meet again I just wanted to tell you... I want you to know that... that I love you, Amue!" He focused his attention back on her, waiting for a reply.

All eyes on the bridge suddenly forgot whatever it was they were doing however important and focused instead on the Heraclesian princess.

Amue sat frozen in her seat, her response on her lips but refusing to be spoken aloud. Her heart was hammering against her chest and she couldn't tell if it was adrenaline from the battle or the confession that she had just received. She wanted to respond in kind, to tell him just how much he meant to her, that she adored him, that she liked nothing more than to just be around him, even when they were arguing, even when he exasperated her to the point of wanting to tear her hair out. She wanted to say 'I love you too'. But the words stuck unspoken on her lips. Instead she said, "I know."

"Oh." He blinked in crestfallen disappointment. "Good. Um.. That's good. I..."

One of the rebels that had been rigging the bomb came up to tap him on the shoulder. "Sir, we're all ready here."

Grateful for the well-timed distraction but suspecting the soldier had done it more out of pity, the young rebel leader turned back to Amue once again collected and confident. "Good luck on your mission."

And with that the transmission was ended.

The freighter climbed higher into the thick black and brown cloud cover of the Galran skies before finally breaking through in the upper atmosphere. Warm golden sunlight spread out before them like soft creamery butter over toast burned to a blackened mess. It must have morning, the sun was just over the horizon in the East, rising over the depressing grey world that would never see its light or appreciate its warmth. As they continued to rise the sun became less of a warm glow and more of an independent sphere shining over a dirty brown marble, the Planet Galra.

"Its a shame really." The pilot was saying. "Galra might have been pretty if it weren't for the clouds."

Amue chose not to comment, she could not ever imagine Galra being anything but what it was. Dirty, depraved and deplorable. A veritable den of iniquity ruled by a cruel and monstrous villain that was as vile and repulsive as he was beautiful and alluring. "Cut the chatter and plot our course."

On the planet's surface far below her where the sunlight could not reach the shipyard's control tower exploded in a burst of glorious orange and gold flames, sending plums of black smoke up to join the already repugnant cloud cover that blanketed the planet. Bits of shrapnel the size of full grown me went flying in all directions and Ryou and his band of rebels took cover in a near by gully to watch the fruits of their labor and pick off whatever Galran soldiers that might have escaped the blast.

When the flames subsided and the shipyard became nothing more than mangled shadows on the already marred Galran landscape and the rebels were sure that not a single Galran soldier had escaped Ryou gave to order to move out. "Let's get back to base. I'm sure we're all tired."

...

Sincline stepped out from the double doors of his harem completely relaxed. It was really amazing what a few hours indulgence in the pleasures of the flesh could do for a man's nerves. He sauntered throughout the castle halls with the slightest of springs in his step, not an actual spring in his step mind you. No, His Eminence was far to dignified to ever actually _skip_, but the feeling was there even if it's observable action was not. When the Emperor reached his office he found that the dead aide had been cleaned up, the carpet had been replaced with a newer one (this one with a pattern in shades of burgundy that would more easily hide blood stains) and the datadiscs that Gibra had picked up for him had been reorganized with their tray placed in the cue of all the other documents he had to survey. Sincline was not looking forward to the work but he was pleased that his staff had managed to organize everything so efficiently without his supervision.

He was about to sit down and get to work when there was a tentative knock on the office door. One administrative aide had already been killed today, so naturally all the others were going to be on their tip-toes around him and not dare enter the Imperial Office without permission first.

"Unless the Lions are attacking, I don't want to hear it!" He snapped at the closed door.

It opened a crack and a meek faced attendant poked his face in. For one brief moment Sincline feared he was going to tell him that Kogane and the Lions were at the gates here to rescue the princess. That idea was dismissed the moment it surfaced in his mind. If the Lions really were attacking he would have realized it long before anyone had to tell him, a full frontal assault by gigantic wild-cat mechs was a hard thing to miss.

"I... I have your nuptial contract, Your Eminence." The terrified aide stammered in a voice barely above a whisper.

Oh, well that was different! The moment he and Fala signed the nuptial contract she would be his wife, his Empress, all nice and legal. Galrans didn't really care about marriage all that much, it was a contract to be entered into for financial or political reasons. Altea was already a planet within his Empire and Fala subject to him, she no longer had any financial or political powers to be bringing into their marriage. The other reason for marriage on Galra was if a man wanted to acknowledge the offspring of one woman as his heirs over the offspring of any of his other lovers. Fala was to young to have her beauty spoiled by motherhood, no to mention he highly doubted he could reproduce in the first place. By all the marks of his own society, marrying his lovely Lioness was a useless and pointless endeavor. But marriage was a big deal in her society and so it was for her that he wanted to do it.

"Bring it here and put it with the others." Sincline motioned to the cue of datadisces all neatly arranged in their trays, organized by order of importance.

The administrative aide slipped in the rest of the way and crossed the dark new carpet tentatively as if afraid His Eminence might kill him for any moment for no reason. He paused at the cue of datadisces, unsure of where to place it in the cue. How important was this to the Emperor?

"Just set it down and get out!" Sincline snarled.

The aide dropped the disc on top of the tray without placing it in any slot and got the hell out of their as fast as his legs would carry him. The door closed carefully and quietly behind him so as not to disturb the volatile young Emperor.

Sincline denied the petition he'd just been reading with out even finishing the document, signed it, saved his signature and ejected the disc placing it in the stack of completed documents. He picked up his marriage contract and slipped it in the datapad to read it over before presenting it to Fala for her to sign. After he had confirmed that it had been written up exactly as he had specified he ejected the disc again and reached for the comm. link that was built into his desk. He dialed the extension for the person he wanted and had to wait a moment or two for the signal to travel from his office to the War Room four floors down.

"This is Gibra, go ahead." The General's crisp voice answered with little delay.

"Gibra." Sincline's cool tenor crooned.

"Ah, Your Eminence, you'll be pleased to know that preparations for-"

"I'm not calling about that." Sincline cut him off, sure that his earlier orders to the General were being carried out just fine. The Red Army was, after all, his best fighting force. "I need someone to stand up with me."

"Uh, sure." Gibra responded, always willing to fulfill any request his sovereign made of him. "Who are we fighting?"

"No. I mean I need your signature, as my witness for my nuptial contract."

There was a prolonged pause on the other end of the comm. and the heterogeneous hybrid wondered if the General thought him to be a sentimental fool. "I... I'm honored, Your Eminence."

"Good. Be at my private study within the hour."

"On the Royal Residential floor?"

...

Fala had retreated into her bedroom, the inner chamber of her suit, after Sincline's odd and impromptu visit. Truth be told she wanted to get away. She didn't like that he could come into her rooms whenever he liked, she didn't like the power he had over her, she didn't like the freedom he had here on Planet Galra, the freedom to do as he pleased whenever he pleased.

She walked over to her window, the curtains were already pulled back offering a wide view of the dead landscape. Fala examined the window sill and frame. There were no hinges on the window, Fala had already noted that (aside from those on the ground floor of the castle) no windows opened on Galra. She assumed it was because the air higher than a certain altitude was so putrid that even the natives couldn't stand to breath it. She was afraid to ask, however, because she didn't want the answer to be something along the lines of 'To keep people from escaping'. Because that was exactly what Fala was hoping to do.

The window was fixed in a polished black carbon fiber frame set into the black stone of the castle wall. Carbon fiber, once forged, was impossible to break. The 'glass' of the window was also most likely not really glass but rather transparasteel. There was no hope of her actually _breaking_ the window, not in a million years. Maybe if she had a lazer cutter, but how was she going to smuggle something like that up here? The only plausible idea was to pop the window out of its setting in the wall and that was no easy feat. The princess was running through scenarios in her mind of how she could possibly escape through her window when there was a quiet nock on the door dividing her bedroom from the sitting room.

Sincline would never knock or request permission before entering a room so it had to be one of her maids, perhaps Marisol since she was the one that attended her the most. "Enter."

It was not Marisol, the Captain of her guard walked through the door instead.

"Princess," she began, her Altean heavily accented, "His Eminence, requests your presence in his private study."

"Sincline does not _request_ anything." Fala shot back snidely.

Her Guard Captain did not respond. The Altean princess supposed that she just didn't know what to say to such blatant disrespect for her ruler or else she didn't _want_ to say anything for fear of making a remark that could be interpreted as 'treasonous'. Fala had been on Galra for almost a week and she had been attended by the Captain for all that time but she still hadn't gotten a clear gauge of the woman's character.

"Still, I suppose we shouldn't keep him waiting." The Altean princess stood with court trained grace and brushed past her Guard Captain with all the snobbish pride and contempt that she thought was characteristic of Galran royalty.

The door to Sincline's study was open, the first time Fala had ever know the study to be unlocked the entire time she'd been living on the planet. She stepped in tentatively, her Guard Captain entering after her and shutting the door behind them.

Sincline was leaning against an antique desk made of highly polished dark wood of a type she'd never seen before. He looked pleased about something and Fala was none to anxious to find out what it was so she turned her attention toward the rest of the room. Gibra was there also, the General of the Red Army stood examining a shelf of books against a far wall, not the datadisces that she's seen everywhere else in the castle but actual bound _books_. As she turned about the room she realized that every wall was covered by a floor to ceiling bookshelf and each bookshelf was packed with bound books of every possible size and description. It was really a wonder the window and door hadn't been blocked by bookshelves. They were all packed and organized so fictitiously that she could even see where one was missing, a perfect single book sized space was left empty in the middle of a collection lined up on one of the shelves by the window. Fala never would have pegged Sincline as a great reader. But then, she reflected, just because he had a million books didn't mean he had actually read that million books.

The heterogeneous hybrid cleared his throat, bringing the princess' attention back to him. "Fala," he said, "its time."

"Time?" She echoed. "Time for what?"

Her heart was suddenly thumping against her chest and she quickly reappraised the situation. The Altean princess suddenly found herself trapped in a room with Sincline and two of his henchmen. Her mind realed with scenarios of Gibra and her Guard Captain holding her down while the perverse young Emperor had his fill of her body. Fala wrapped her arms about her shoulders as if doing so could protect her from them and glanced from the General to the Captain and back again as if expecting them to pounce on her at any moment.

"Oh, do calm down." Sincline huffed. "I can assure you, its nothing as terrible as you might be imagining. Though... I am curious to know what you were just imagining. No, my dear, its time for us to be married."

Married. The word hit Fala like an out-of-control semi-truck packed with dynamite and crude-oil being driven by a homicidal Doraimon. She had agreed to marry him, to keep Altea safe she had agreed to be his wife. At the time she didn't want it to happen any more than she did now but then she had been optimistic that Kogane would come to rescue her just in the nick of time. It was time's nick now and the princess peered out the study's wide wondow examining the brown sky of clouds looking for any sign of the Lions. There was none. They weren't coming. She began to cry.

Silent tears spilled down her cheeks at the realization that she was actually going to marry Sincline, that this thing was actually happening and that the Lions hadn't come to rescue her. The world blurred and she blinked to clear it. She was her husband-to-be push off of the desk against which he was leaning and walk towards her. She didn't want to be touched by him, but at the same time she needed comfort, she _wanted_ comfort, even if it was the comfort of an enemy. He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned into his chest, burying her face in the soft black fabric of his tunic. He shifted her in his arms to free one hand which he reached into his pocket. The Emperor pulled out a clean white linen handkerchief, an item that Fala never would have imagined a Galran (let alone Sincline) carrying. It was plain, unpatterned and unadorned except by the letters 'N.H.' in one corner. Who or what NH was supposed to be she had no idea, but the character's were Altean and not Galran and that alone made it suspicious.

He used it to gently wipe her eyes. It was such a tender gesture coming from him that her tears ceased from shock and she blinked at him with eyes shining from her recently dispelled tears.

"I realize this is a rather dramatic life change for you." Sincline soothed, voice soft and reposeful. She didn't know he could speak in such a voice. "But I refuse to delay this any longer."

He refolded his handkerchief and replaced it in his pocket before leading his reluctant bride-to-be over to the desk and presenting her with a datapad. The Princess took the document reader mechanically and examined it without really seeing it. Three fourths of the device was taken up by a crystal screen that was currently displaying a contract of some sort. At the bottom of the contract were spaces for four signatures, bride, groom and two witnesses. One of the spaces was highlighted in yellow but she didn't know what that meant. The princess placed the datapad back on the desk.

"I don't know what to do." She confessed.

Sincline gently took her hand and guided it to the lower fourth of the pad that was occupied by a small keyboard and a touch-pad of some kind. "Place your thumb here."

He gently placed her thumb over the touch-pad, applying just enough pressure to activate the sensors beneath the it. Fala's thumb print appeared on the screen next to the highlighted space and then her name seemed to type itself on the line; 'Fala of Altea'. Sincline released her hand and repeated the process for himself, removing his black glove to reveal a sinewy blue hand with slender fingers tipped in long sharp almost claw-like nails. He pressed his thumb to the pad and his thumb print also appeared next to another blank line with his name following soon after; intricate and complicated characters that Fala could not read but was sure read 'Sincline (unknown family name)'.

He replaced his glove on his hand and passed the datapad to Gibra. "Witness."

The General likewise removed his glove and pressed his thumb to the pad. When he was done he passed it to the Captain of Fala's guard. "Congratulations, Your Eminence, Your Majesty."

He bowed to Sincline and Fala in turn as did the Guard Captain once she was done signing. They left once their business was concluded, Gibra holding the door open for the Captain in almost Altean-like gentlemanly fashion. He closed it behind them and the newlyweds were now left alone together.

Sincline ejected the disc that contained their marriage contract and Fala glared at the hateful document as if doing so would cause it to melt and be destroyed under her intensity. It didn't.

"So that's it?" She asked.

"That's it." He confirmed, placing the disc in a plastic case and locking it in a small drawer of the desk.

"No ceremony?"

Now he looked up at her in sheer and utter confusion. "What for?"

"Uh, a wedding ceremony." The princess, ney, the Empress attempted to clarify. "On Altea when people get married they have big ceremonies to mark the occasion. In a church, the bride is lead down the isle while the groom waits at the alter. A priest oversees their exchange of vows and rings and pronounces them married before the eyes of God."

Her husband raised one chalky white eyebrow. "Well if you want... I'm sure I could arrange something with the High Priest at Menagroth's main temple in Nargothrond. But it seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for something that is essentially meaningless. My time would be better spent on more pertinent matters."

Fala was about to argue that marriage ceremonies were not meaningless but then realized that he just wouldn't understand. Instead she asked, "So... what happens now?"

Sincline wrapped his arm about her waist, pulling her into him. He caressed one hand down the side of her cheek in a soft intimate motion that sent a tingling sensation down that whole side of her body and the Empress suddenly remembered the claw-like nails he had under his glove.

Her heart leapt back into her throat. "H-here! Now!"

His touch was so bold and intimate. They were married now, was he going to try to consummate their marriage here in the study? Could he really not wait until they got to a bedroom? Panic seized her again.

"No." Her husband whispered softly and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Go back to your rooms and try and calm down. Have a glass of wine, read a book, scream into a pillow if you like. I have some work that I've been putting off all day that I need to finish. Come to my room later tonight."

...


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: And now, the chapter you've all been waiting for... the sex!)

The Sindariin

Chapter Eight:

Fala had not had a glass of wine, nor had she even attempted to read a book. She had, however, screamed into a pillow. Several times and at great length. No matter how many times she went over it in her mind, the Altean princess now turned Galran Empress just couldn't believe it. It had really happened, she had really married Sincline. Kogane's image rose to the forefront of her mind, smiling and laughing at some joke another one of the pilots had made, his head thrown back in mirth, his eyes sparkling with warmth and good humor. And then the image would shatter as if it had been reflected in a fragile glass mirror and all that would be left was the image of Sincline. Empress Fala once again pressed a sumptuous over-stuffed pillow to her face and let out a loud shrill screech of frustration.

All her maids and servants had tried to offer her what comfort they could, most of them were aware of what the women in the Emperor's harem had to endure and they felt sympathy for the woman whom had just become the man's wife. But after their continued attempts rendered little success they had given up, thinking that Her Majesty would appreciate space to be alone with her thoughts instead. What Her Majesty really wanted was to be back home on Altea enduring a lecture on proper lady's behavior from Hys or getting into trouble with Shorty, Platt and Chuchul or stealing a brief moment of secret time alone with Kogane... Fala began to cry into her pillow.

Marisol entered the bedroom then, pausing in the doorway to give her lady a moment longer to sulk. When the moment was up the maid knocked gently on the doorframe to alert Fala to her presence. "Your Majesty," she began respectfully, "its time we started getting you ready for tonight."

A wave of revulsion twisted in the Empress' stomach at the knowledge of what that meant but she pushed it away. A member of the Royal House of Altea did not cower and shy away from an unsavory situation. When her father had been killed by Daibazaal in Galra's first terrible invasion of Altea he did not shrink away from his fate, Raimon had faced his enemy with pride and had died the death of a hero. Fala's life my not be what was in danger in this instant but she viewed the situation in much the same way. She was going to meet her end, perhaps not the end of her life, but the end to a period in her life, a period in her life she had rather enjoyed.

The Empress rose to her feet with a solemn, "Very well."

Marisol along with a number of other maids set about unlacing her bodice and underlaying corset. They slipped the dress she had been wearing that day off her while Marisol selected a thin light gown from the closet that was of such a fine fabric it was almost transparent. This Fala slipped on slowly, afraid the material would disintegrate if she applied the least amount of force to the delicate fabric. Her maids let down her long golden waves from the split-bun she had been wearing it in and pulled a brush through it. Fala watched all this in her mirror and saw how they were transforming her from a high class well-born lady of dignity into a sultry seductress of hellenic myth.

The maids stepped back to survey their work and Fala took a turn in the mirror to see all that they had done. Her hair swept about her shoulders and trailed down her back, it framed her neck and face, making her cheeks look full and sprightly. The gown she wore was indeed transparent and she could see her nipples poking through the forrest-green sheer and she dreaded what Sincline might think of it. The gown hung from her shoulders in such a way as to give the appearance that the slightest movement would cause it to fall from her form. Her eyes followed the folds of the fabric trailing down her figure noting that her curly blond pubic hair was also visible through the transparent material.

_'Why even bother wearing anything at all?_' She wondered.

"You look beautiful, Your Majesty." Marisol assured her.

Fala wished she didn't. She didn't want to look beautiful right now, not for him. She wanted him to louse interest, to forget about her, send her away, send her back to her home, to Altea. But no matter how much she wanted that or how hard she wished she knew he never would. They were married now and she was doomed to spend the rest of her life as the wife of Emperor Sincline of Galra. Even if he did giver her back Altea as he had promised he would after they had been married for a year she'd still never be able to return to her utopian home-world. No, she would have to stay here on this putrid, disgusting dead world with her husband and rule Altea from afar. But if she didn't submit to Sincline, what would happen to Altea in the meantime?

It was for her planet's sake that she resigned herself to this fate. Not just for the people who lived there but the birds and the trees and all that was green and good in the world that would suffer. The Empress raised her chin in regal resolve. "I'm ready."

Marisol bowed respectfully and walked over to the wall that divided her bedroom from her husband's. The maid pulled on an empty wall scone and a segment of the wall slid out of place to reveal a secret door.

"The hell!" Fala exclaimed, all pretense of regal baring and confidence gone. "How long has that been there?"

"Since always, Your Majesty." The maid replied dutifully.

"You mean that he could have been coming in here whenever he liked this whole time?" She was once again terrified and anxious. Visions ran through her mind of Sincline sneaking into her room while she was sleeping, stalking towards the bed and molesting her while she slept. Or while she was away coming in riffle through her underwear. All manner of ungentlemanly scenarios played over in her mind's eye before Marisol snapped her out of it.

"Your Majesty, we really should not keep His Eminence waiting."

Sincline measured out a tiny spoonful of a pale pink powder and tipped it into the bottom of a champaign glass. He poured a little bit of the champaign into the glass and swirled it around, watching the powder dissolve. It was a mild aphrodisiac tailor made for a human female of Fala's specific height and weight. Once he was satisfied that no trace of the drug could be seen in the liquid he fill the glass the rest of the way and then poured a glass for himself. His blushing bride would never drink anything he offered her if he wasn't also drinking from the same bottle.

Fala entered just as he was setting the bottle back on the bedside table and she stopped short taking in his appearance. In all the time she'd known him she had never seen him look so... casual. He had always appeared in his blue and black uniform and standing tall and strait with military discipline. Now she saw him barefooted, clad only in a soft and comfortable looking gold robe with black patterning on the seams and tied with a solid black sash of simple cloth. When he turned to face her, holding a glass of champaign in each hand, she glimpsed sparse silver chest hairs through the V-neck of the robe's part. He stepped towards her, his eyes sweeping over her exposed figure.

"Come inside, my dear. No need to linger in the doorway." Her husband held out one of the champaign glasses for her. "Come and have a drink to calm your nerves."

Fala had taken a couple of obedient steps toward him, but at the mention of the 'drink' she had once again stopped short.

"Its drugged." It wasn't a question. She hadn't seen him put anything in it, but she knew just what kind of sneaky, low-down conniving villain he was. She knew that _he knew_ that the only way to get her to have sex with him was to drug her in some way, shape or form.

Sincline bit the inside of his cheek. They'd been married barely over four hours and she already knew him far to well. The Emperor opted that partial honesty was the best response, he would admit that it was drugged but not what kind of drug exactly. "Just something to help your nerves."

"A sedative?"

"A relaxant."

Fala finished crossing the distance between them and took the glass he held out for her but did not drink. She scrutinized its golden and bubbling surface before looking away, studying his bedroom instead. It was not at all what she had expected the inner sanctum of the vile prince-now-Emperor's rooms to look like. She had expected to find his room decorated in mounted skulls or the stuffed heads of his enemies, animal antlers, the horned skull of the Galran crest mounted on everything and a color scheme of shades of red and black. Instead, what she found was a comfortable room in shades of navy and powder blue. A blue man in a blue room.

The walls were a muted powder blue and hung on them were not severed heads, skulls or antlers but rather paintings in oil and watercolors. Landscapes of a lush green planet that Fala could not name, scenes of heroic battles featuring Galrans clad in chain-mail and tabards with their capes sweped back dramatically holding their swords aloft; the Empress was sure they were scenes from some significant points in the planet's history but she just didn't know enough about Galran history to hazard a guess. The window was covered by heavy curtains of navy blue, his closet also sported large full length mirrors on the doors as hers did, the bedside table was made of a dark highly polished wood and offered two small drawers the bottom of which had a lock and she wondered what he kept in there.

On the bedside table sat the opened bottle of champaign sitting in a platinum ice bucket and next to that was a book with a powder blue ribbon bookmark hanging out of it. She recognized the spine of the book as being part of a series she's seen in his study, the missing book from the shelf. Once again she was surprised to find that he ever bothered to read anything. Sincline just hadn't struck her as the type to sit down with a good book in his leisure time. And finally her eyes fell on the bed.

She had been avoiding it from the moment she entered the room, looking anywhere else but there. The frame and posts were made from the same highly polished dark wood as the bedside table and was outfitted with heavy looking navy blue hangings. The blankets and pillow cases were also navy but the he had pulled the covers back to reveal powder blue sheets underneath. Fala never would have imagined Sincline preferring such cool colors, it just didn't seem like him. She cautiously sat on the foot of the bed and returned her attention to the spiked champaign.

"I can't do this..." She whispered.

"You can and you _will_." Her husband replied authoritatively. "Drink your champaign, it will help."

Fala swirled the golden liquid around a couple of times and looked up at him. "Will it knock me out so I don't know what you're doing to me?"

"I assure you, it will _not_." He sounded almost affronted.

"A pity."

Sincline bristled at her words. She would honestly _prefer_ it if he knocked her out so that she wouldn't be able to enjoy the pleasure his body offered her. What the hell kind of backwards planet was Altea? Or maybe it was him. She just didn't want to experience him as her bed partner, she'd rather sleep through the whole affair and wake up afterwards to have no memory of his attentions. The young Emperor was insulted!

"You might find that you rather enjoy it." He growled.

Fala highly doubted that. She couldn't imagine ever enjoying his touch never mind enduring having him slip inside her. Her stomach churned at the idea and she took a sip of the champaign hoping maybe the alcohol would knock her out if his drug didn't. It went down warm and sparkling and settled in her belly in a not unpleasant way. The Empress shot the rest of the glass, downing the drink in one large gulp and coughed as she handed it back to her husband.

"May I have another?"

Sincline accepted the empty glass back, the oddest expression on his face, and refilled her champaign. "I didn't spike the bottle you know."

Fala didn't respond. She drank her second glass much like the first in two swallows, a small tentative one and then shooting the rest. She had never been drunk before and she didn't know how much she would need to drink to get that way but if she had to lay down and spread her legs for the Galran Emperor she was damn well going to be completely plastered before it happened. "Another please?"

This time he hesitated. In all his long hours spent observing his beloved bride, studying her during their battles and from afar in rare moments of peace he had never seen anything to indicate that she might be an alcoholic. The Emperor was loath to wonder if this new development was do to him. Sincline gave her only a half glass this time along with the warning of, "You shouldn't drink so much."

"I'm hoping to pass-out." His wife in formed him.

He slammed the bottle down on the bedside table with a loud angry _thump_ that made Fala jump and spill the contents of her glass over the bedspread and floor.

"I want you conscious!" He snarled.

Sincline had given up humoring her. He wasn't sure how long it was supposed to take the aphrodisiac to take effect but he'd rather spend that time in leisure foreplay rather than watching her slowly drink herself into a stupor. The Emperor pulled the mostly empty champaign glass from her hand and placed it on the bedside table next to the bottle and sat on the bed beside her. The motion causing the bottom of his robe to part slightly offering her the tinniest of glimpses of dark blue balls hanging between well defined thighs salted with silvery white hair. She shot to her feet.

"I can't do this!" Her heart was hammering against her chest again, battering around her ribcage like a caged lion desperate to escape. She knew what men looked like. She had walked in on Kogane and the rest of the boys in a locker-room shower once. She had seen more than she had wanted to see of their most decidedly _male_ bodies and her cheeks colored at the memory. Intellectually she knew what sex was and that as a married woman she was expected to preform for her husband. But... there was a difference between knowing facts and experiencing realities.

"You can and you _will_!" Her husband also stood, placing strong azure hands tipped in sharp claw like nails on her shoulders. He crushed his lips against hers in a rough demanding kiss, his slippery tong forcing its way inside to explore her mouth. She once again moaned in protest and attempted to push him away but her struggling only caused the heterogeneous hybrid to tighten his grip on her slight frame. Finally, when he'd had his momentary fill of her mouth he pulled away and looked at her, his golden cat-like eyes roving over her form, admiring the transparent gown she wore and noticing that her nipples had peaked slightly. "You can either relax and try to enjoy my attentions, or I'll just take you now whether you're ready or not."

Fala flushed at the idea that he might just go ahead and rape her if she didn't cooperate and she knew that he _would_ too. Amue had never spoken of her time as his captive, not directly, but her veiled implications and dark hints had convinced the Altean princess of what Sincline must have done and she did not want him to do any of it to her as well. "I... I'll cooperate."

He released his hold of her. "Now sit back down."

She sank unsteadily back down to sit on the foot of the bed suddenly very aware that she was, for all intents and purposes, naked in front of him. Her skin felt hot where he had touched her and she ran a hand over her shoulder and lips as if trying to transfer the sensation to her fingers instead. Sincline once again sat down next to her, this time she averted her eyes from the nether regions of his person and focused only on his face, his beautiful chiseled handsome face with its blend of human and alien features that made him look so exotic an alluring.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, melding her against his side. His other hand he slid between her knees, sliding slowly up the inside of her thigh. Fala's muscles tensed at his touch, her skin once again burred as his hand passed over her like a fire had been lit in her flesh and she pressed her legs even more together than they already were, stilling his hand mid caress.

"Don't fight me, Fala." His growl this time was low and throaty, an epicurean voice.

She let out a soft whimper and relaxed her legs allowing him enough leeway to continue sliding his hand up the inside of her thighs. She was beginning to feel warm all over now and was sure a bright pink blush must be covering her ill-clothed form. His touches were beginning to make her feel feverish, warm waves of sensation traveling up her legs, spreading through out her whole body and pooling between her thighs. ...And when his hand touched her curly blond pubic hair her stomach gave a not unpleasant little jolt of surprise. Never before had anyone touched her in so intimate and personal a place! But for some reason unfathomable to Fala instead of recoiling at his touch she opened for him, offering wider access.

Sincline smiled in self-gratifying victory. The aphrodisiac he had given her was beginning to take effect. That was fast, he was pleased that he hadn't had to wait very long but he looked forward to the day when his attentions would be pleasantly received without the help of artificial stimulants, when Fala would melt from him of her own accord and beg him to fill her in earnest need and not induced arousal. The heterogeneous hybrid slid one long finger over her warm and slippery slit and she let out a soft, modest, moan of pleasure. Her eyes closed, and she leaned back into his arm, surrendering even more to the drug and his caresses. He laid her back on the bed, sliding the transparent green material of her gown up above her hips.

"What are you...?" She whispered.

"Shhh... Just relax."

He spread her legs wider. Bending down between them he flicked his tong over her now exposed clit and was rewarded with another soft moan of pleasure, this one accompanied by a slight wave of wetness that dripped onto the dark navy bedspread. Sincline lapped it up greedily, flicking his tong up her slit and over the sensitive bud that crowned it.

"I like that." Fala whispered.

He paused in his ministrations to smirk in triumph. Moving back onto the bed, he stretched out next to her, one hand continuing to stroke her clit while the other slithered up under the fabric of her gown to caress her breast. Again, another moan escaped her, this one louder with more abandon. Sincline held her erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger applying the slightest bit of pressure and her back arched from the sensation. Pushing the material up higher, bunching the green fabric above her now exposed breasts he rolled over on top of her and took the neglected nipple in his mouth.

This time the sudden arching of her back was accompanied by a gasping and breathless, "Ah."

Deciding that she was ready and that he had waited far long enough, Sincline pulled her gown the rest of the way over her head and threw the garment aside where it crumpled abandoned on the floor. He untied the sash of his robe and that to was thrown aside, joining her gown. He spread her legs farther with his knees, lowering himself between her thighs, his stiff member throbbing from need pressed between her wet and slippery thighs. Fala's eyes shot open in sudden awareness at the touch.

"Wait!"

She scooted up higher onto the bed, putting a little distance between them, her eyes wildly roving his suddenly naked body. Sincline crouched on his hands and knees, his long silvery-white hair falling over his shoulders in straight silky locks that looked to neatly kept to be natural. The arms that supported him were strong and well muscled but not overly so, there was a leanness to them that (on any other man but him) would have been very attractive. Silvery-white hair lightly salted his forearms and chest and Fala's eyes followed it with her eyes until her attention fell on the thick patch of curly white hair that surrounded the base of his swollen and rigid organ.

Long and thick and blue, it was a slightly darker shade than the rest of him, a single clear bead of pre-cum dew dripping out from his tip. She had seen naked men before, she had seen Kogane naked before but they hadn't looked like him. The difference in skin color aside, Sincline's shaft was textured with odd bumps and ridges and Fala found the sight of it both revolting and yet fascinating. Normal humans weren't supposed to look like him, at least she didn't think so. Her sample pool of experience was decidedly small. The newly wed Empress was suddenly hit with the full force of the realization that he was only _half_-human, half-alien.

The Emperor once again closed the distance between them, leaning over her he pressed his lips gently against hers and muttered, "Impressive, I know."

He once again spread her legs with his own, lowering his pelvis to her and nestling his stiff and throbbing erection between her thighs.

"Please, wait." She whispered breathlessly.

"No." He growled in frustrated impatience and thrust himself inside.

A sharp hot pain lanced through her body and Fala cried out in upset. Sincline did not stop for her to recover, he didn't even pause to inquire if she was alright. He continued to thrust in and out in fast deep movements, each one producing a slightly less intense burst of pain than the one before it.

"It hurts." She whimpered as an almost plea.

"You'll enjoy it soon." He growled in a deep throaty heady voice.

One of his hands cradled her head bringing her face up to meet his in another one of his intrusive demanding kisses while the other snaked down beneath them to grab at her ass. She writhed beneath him, not from pleasure but from the avalanche of so many new sensations. When he released her mouth she gasped for breath and moved to wipe his saliva from her mouth, but Sincline held her wrists down while he started trailing soft butterfly kisses down her chin, neck and collar bone. When he reached the delicate curve of her shoulder he closed his mouth over the smooth unblemished skin and nicked the delicate flesh with his sharp fangs.

Fala gasped with another jolt of pain, this one lancing down from her shoulder while the other still pulsed from her core as if the two were trying to meet in her belly. She suppressed another whimper and wished for nothing more than this horrible ordeal to be over.

His motions quickened, sending white hot shock-waves up through her belly and she dared to hope that he was close to his finish. He bit down harder on her shoulder, his teeth sinking deep enough into her flesh to scrape bone and Fala cried out in pain. Hot molten warmth flowed into her, filling her womb and spilling back out over her thighs and then he stilled. Sincline withdrew his fangs from her shoulder licking the blood away as he did so and rolled off her gasping.

It was over. Oh, than God it was over!

Fala rolled over onto her side and pulled at the bedspread wanting to cover her naked and shameful disgrace. The image of Kogane once again rose to the forefront of her mind and she began to cry. Was this what sex was supposed to be like? Was this what it was like with all men? Was this what it would have been like with him? With her friend,comrade and Captain. No. Kogane was different, he was not selfish and cruel like Sincline. It would have been different if it was with him.

Her husband wrapped his arms around her, pulling her naked form flush against his and whispered into her hair, "_Arda tain ru_."

...

Later that evening Fala lay awake in bed next to Sincline. She stared up at the solid navy blue canopy that was almost black in the darkness and listened to the steady even breathing of her husband. He had insisted that she spend the rest of the night with him and refused to allow her to return to her own rooms. She rolled over in bed to study what little she could see of him in the dark. His long silvery hair was splayed over the fluffy dark pillows, his face turned to the side offering only a profile view of his exotic alien features.

When asleep he was very handsome. His features held none of the sadistic cruelty and unconcerned conceit that dominated the majority of his character. The lines under his eyes and the creases in his forehead melted away, making him look younger, more unassuming and innocent. Had she met him under different circumstances, if his people had not invaded hers, if his father had not killed her father and the two of them had not met amidst the turbulence of a war-torn galaxy she might have thought him very attractive, maybe even been the one to pursue him. If her were not a member of the Royal House of Galra and she not a member of the Royal House of Altea... 'if'...

She rolled out of bed and tip-toed through the darkness to the bathroom. There were no light switches within Demon Castle, instead lights were toggled on and off by voice commands (except for the business wing of the castle where the lights were just _always_ on).

"Lights." She whispered in a soft voice.

Nothing happened.

"Lights." She said again in a slightly louder volume.

Still the bathroom lights did not turn on so she gave up, not wanting to raise her voice any louder and risk waking Sincline. Fala groped around in the darkness feeling her way to the toilet to relieve herself. She rested her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands. She didn't cry, she had already spent all her tears for today and just didn't have the energy to weep anymore. But she did sigh in despondency while massaging her temples. "What am I going to do?"

But the dark bathroom had no answer to give her.

The Empress took an extra bit of toilet paper to wipe her and Sincline's mingled fluids from her legs and flushed the soiled paper down the toilet wincing at the loud _whoosh_ sound it made. She stood utterly still, her ears straining for any indication that she had woken her husband. When there was none she felt around in the dark for the sink and faucet to wash her hands. Her business in the bathroom done, she padded through the darkness with her arms stretched out in front of her feeling for any possible obstacles on her way back to bed.

Her hand came in contact with one of the wood bedposts and she climbed back into bed banging her shin on the bed-frame as she did so. "Ow! Son of a _bitch_!"

Sincline jerked awake. He snapped out one short word in Galran and the lights blazed to life illuminating the whole room. He crouched on the bed a knife in one hand, his eyes scanning the room coldly for any sign of an enemy.

"Uh... sorry." The Empress muttered indignantly, shocked and puzzled by his sudden and apparently instinctive overreaction.

"Fala." He blinked at her and sighed. Reaching under his pillow he withdrew a sheath for his knife. Sliding the blade inside it he replaced the weapon under the pillow and laid back down, once again calm and relaxed. "Come back to bed."

For lack of an acceptable excuse not to she obediently crawled back into the large four-poster bed. Her shin throbbed where she had banged it adding just one more hurt onto the sting of the bite on her shoulder and the burning between her legs. Fala was confident now that she could say she 'hurt all over' and have it actually be true.

Sincline cuddled up close to her the moment she was under the covers. "What were you doing out of bed?"

"I needed to use the toilet."

"Hmm." He rubbed his partially erect member against her back. "Well, since you're awake..."

"Please, no." His wife whispered in alarm. 'I... I still haven't recovered from earlier!"

"It wont hurt as much this time." He assured her. One clawed hand reached around to fondle her breast, his index finger running circles around her still to sensitive nipple.

"Please don't."

He ignored her and trailed butterfly kisses down her neck, following the same path he had taken earlier to her shoulder where he once again closed his mouth over the still open wound there and lapped up her fresh sweet blood.

"Don't!" She winced and rolled backwards in an attempt to push him off her. She turned over to face him, meeting his eyes directly. "That _hurts_!"

"If you were a Galran female it wouldn't bother you so much." Her husband growled out in frustration.

"Well, I'm not!" Fala snapped back. "Sorry, but I'm a weak and fragile little human. When I'm injured I feel pain and when I'm cut I need time to heal. You know this! If you're upset that I don't react to your barbarous attentions the way Galran women do then maybe you should forget about me and go find yourself a woman of your own species!"

"You are as much a woman of my species as any Galran woman is." He snapped back. "Remember that I am half-human, Fala."

"Well then maybe you should act like it instead of the beast that you have been for as long as I've known you!"

"A 'beast' am I..?" The Emperor smiled in what could only be described as playful amusement. "Oh, Fala, you haven't seen just how 'beastly' I can be..."

He rolled over on top of her, still playfully amorous, his hands pressing down on her shoulders to assert his dominance. The weight on her open bite sent waves of pain trembling down her arm and side and she struggled to try and get him off her. Her uninjured arm flying upwards to smack him across the face. He snarled in sudden rage and grabbed both her wrists, holding her down.

"I warned you never to strike me again, Fala." Sincline growled in a deadly soft voice that promised pain.

"And I warned you that when you hurt me I'll fight back." She reminded him. "I am not your subordinate, Sincline. Neither am I your servant or your slave. I am your wife, the Empress of your Empire, your _equal_. I will not tolerate any disrespect, not even from you!"

His face contorted into an expression of frustrated irritation and the pressure on her wrists only increased causing her to wince under the bruising strain.

"Ah, Fala..." he whispered softly lowering his face beside hers and nipping at her earlobe. "My naive little _ardan_, you are not going to enjoy this..."

...

(A/N: What do you think? Was it worth the wait? Yeah, I didn't think so either. But, ya know, I've never been good at writing sex and I probably never will be. I consider it a victory if you can read it without cringing.

Unimportant detail (that did not appear in the story at all): I remembered how Daibazaal wanted to be "a fly on the wall" when Sincline finally had sex with Fala. I was thinking of having him notice a fly on the wall or bedpost or something after he and Fala were done and have him smack it or whatever. But I decided against it. In a previous chapter I had also made some stupid off-handed comment about Daibazaal "haunting" Sincline and I don't want readers to think that that's what's actually going on. It would just add another ridiculous subplot to what is already going to be an unnecessarily long story. I just wanted to mention it because I thought it would have been a rather clever idea. -Shows you how much of an easily amused narcissist I really am.- If Sincline is really "haunted" by anything it's his own inadequacy and unresolved daddy issues. )


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Nine:

Sincline tied the sash of his robe and stepped out of the bedroom into his sitting room, carful to close the door behind him as quietly as possible so as not to wake his exhausted and sleeping bride. He walked over to a cabinet made of polished _chalha_ wood and, opening it, withdrew a bottle of aged _yarbara_ and a glass. He poured himself a generous helping of the blood wine and sat down on his sofa. He was in a foul mood. Fala had seemed so receptive to him earlier, he had forgotten that it was because of the dose of aphrodisiac he'd given her and not any great talent of his. A stupid mistake to make.

The Emperor sipped his wine while brooding over his already unhappy marriage situation. He didn't much like the prospect of having to drug his wife every night that he wanted a little sex and he didn't much like the idea of restraining her and disciplining her like one of the slaves in his Collection. Fala was not a harem slave and he shouldn't have to treat her like one just to get an orgasm. She had been so wet and responsive while under the influence of the aphrodisiac, if she could be like that all the time life would be wonderful!

He drained his first glass of the blood wine and pored a second. Fala's blood had tasted so much sweeter... But that presented another problem. The main motivation for her resistance of their second go-around was that his first little love-bite was causing her pain. That was a sentiment the Emperor perfectly understood, he lost interest in sex when he was seriously injured and in excruciating pain. Though, Sincline hardly considered a few teeth marks to be a real 'injury', certainly not something capable of causing 'excruciating pain'. But then, he reminded himself, he was not entirely human as Fala was. His father was Galran and from him Sincline had inherited tougher skin (though he didn't have scales, thank Menagroth!), a higher pain tolerance and faster healing abilities. His beautiful Altean wife, being a thoroughbred human, was not so lucky.

Perhaps for humans a little bite on the shoulder was a serious injury? He took another sip of wine and shook his head. It wasn't like he had taken a bite out of her jugular vein or anything. Fala was just overreacting, humans were not as weak as she was making herself out to be. He'd seen human slaves endure far worse than any thing he'd done to Fala this night. Hell! His own harem endured worse than she had. Yes, she was just overreacting, culture shock and all that jazz. She would adjust. She would. HIs mother had adjusted. Hadn't she?

Sincline paused in his contemplation of his difficult wife. Glaring at his own reflection in the dark red blood-wine he realized that he really didn't know anything about his mother at all. He knew she had been human, she had been Altean and she had been beautiful. But he had no clue as to what kind of woman she really was. He had always assumed she had been like Fala in manner and personality because the two so greatly resembled each other in appearance.

The Emperor stood, leaving his wine glass forgotten on the _chalha_ wood coffee table, he left his suit of rooms and stalked down the corridor to his study. He sat down in front of his desk and gave a sigh that was little more than a half-hearted exhale. He opened the locked drawer in the desk and shuffled through its contents, his marriage contract which he still needed to make copies of and enter into official record, a contorted piece of metal that had been a souvenir of his first tour after graduating from the Imperial Military Academy, and various other things that could only be described as 'junk'. Until finally, flattened on the bottom of the drawer he found what he was looking for. The picture of his mother.

Nienor Hurin had been her name and she had been beautiful. Not by Galran standards, mind you. But Sincline had long ago realized that he didn't use the Galran yard-stick when measuring a woman's level of attractiveness. As much as he was Galran he was also human and preferred human interpretations of 'beauty' to Galran ones. Balled heads, flat chests and scales just didn't interest him, not the way long hair, peaked nipples and soft skin did.

It might be a tad disturbing to think, but Sincline had to admit that his mother was exactly what he liked in his women. Nienor's hair was long, strait and golden; longer than Fala's actually. It flowed over her shoulders and past her waist to vanish beyond the frame of the picture. Her face was round and youthful, she could not have been much older than seventeen or eighteen when she had given birth to him. Her lips were red and full, the kind that made men think of... well, never mind what lips like that made men think of doing with her mouth. It was the eyes that Sincline focused on tonight. Wide and round and reflecting infinite sadness. She had not wanted the life fate had dealt her.

The heterogeneous hybrid wondered if he had been one of the contributors to her sadness and a pang of something akin to 'guilt' curled around his heart. The Emperor found that he did not like the feeling one bit and wished it would go away. His thoughts returned to Fala asleep in his bed, exhausted from the rigorous work out he'd put her through. Would Fala never be happy in her marriage to him? Would she live in sadness as the wife of the Emperor of the Galra Empire just as Nienor appeared to have lived in sadness as the mother of the Prince Imperial?

Sincline sighed in frustration and leaned back in his chair, running one clawed hand through his long silvery hair that was wet with sweat and matted from being tossed about. He wasn't going to get any answers from staring at a picture. He replaced the photograph back in the desk drawer making sure that it was buried back under everything that had been on top of it and closed and locked the drawer. Then after a prolonged pause he opened it again. As long as he was up and couldn't sleep he might as well do something useful. Sincline took his marriage contract out of the drawer.

He made a quick stop back at his suit to change from his robe into actual clothing. Nothing as grand as he'd been wearing the past few days, just a pair of black trousers and a simple shirt, gloves and boots. Fala stirred just as he was once again leaving and the Emperor froze in mid-step. She blinked at him through the darkness, pulling the blankets up to her chin as if to shield herself from a possible threat.

Sincline felt the need to say something but he found that he didn't have the right words and those that he tried to say stuck in the back of his throat. Finally he managed to croak an unexpressive, "Do you need a healer?"

His wife shook her head, 'no'. He nodded, accepting the answer and trusting her to know the limits of her own body better than he did.

And then he was in the lift on his way down to the business wing of the castle.

On either side of him people flattened themselves against the walls in an attempt to keep out of the Emperor's way. He may not be wearing his sword-belt at the moment, but Sincline was still a deadly man to cross even unarmed and that was a fact those whom lived and worked in Demon Castle knew well.

He opened the door of his office to catch Gibra setting a tray of datadiscs on the desk. The General paused in mid motion.

"Ah, You Eminence, I would have thought you and Her Majesty would be indisposed for the remainder of the night."

"Its always night on Galra." His Eminence snapped. "Would you expect me to be 'indesposed' forever? What's this?" Sincline picked up the tray to examine its contents.

"Reports." Gibra answered dutifully.

"It takes two discs for you to give me a report on your preparations for the Lion hunt?"

"Well no... It seems that earlier today the Sluusvan shipyard was attacked by the Heracles terrorists... and destroyed."

By Amue's terrorist group. Oh, if there was ever a woman Sincline wanted to kill for the simple pleasure of drawing out a slow excruciating death it was _that_ woman. Princess Amue of Heracles. Just the mention of her name made his hackles rise. He never should have left his men to kill her, he should have done it himself, he should have made sure she was dead. Instead he had left the pragmatic bitch to the firing squad and she had escaped, not only escaped but joined with a rag-tag group of escaped slaves lead by the younger brother of one of the late Lion pilots and together the two of them had organized what should have been a pathetic rabble into an efficient terrorist unit that has been causing him headaches ever since. Oh! How he wished that woman dead!

Sincline pulled his datapad to him and slipped the Sluusvan debrief in the pad's disc drive. He scanned the document noting the list of damaged and lost ships. The control tower, when it was destroyed, had apparently collapsed across a row of dreadnoughts reducing them all to recyclable scrap metal and not much else. Other ships had been damaged to the point of being rendered useless while more would take months to repair enough to be useful. The Emperor looked back up at Gibra.

"How will the damages effect your Lion hunt?"

"As I stated in my report," he indicated the second disc in the tray, "the Sluusvan attack will have no immediate effect on the Lion hunt. None of the ships I'm taking come from that yard. The biggest issue with it is the loss of possible reenforcement ships and personnel. There was a good deal of loss of life in the attack."

Sincline waved his hand dismissively. Death was part of a soldier's job description. "When can you leave?"

"My forces will be ready to ship out late tomorrow."

"Any sooner?"

"I do not believe that would be possible, Your Eminence." Gibra answered cautiously. Sincline had once been charged with the exact job the General was now trying his best to fore-fill. The Emperor should understand that it took time to organize and outfit a suitable fighting force for any mission and the larger the force the longer it took. Gibra hoped his sovereign wasn't already lousing touch with reality.

"Make it possible."

"Yes, sir." The General suppressed a sigh.

There must be something about wearing a crown that made people stupid. With most royals it could easily just be blamed on inbreeding but Emperor Sincline was probably the least inbred a creature could be. You can't really get a gene pool more diverse than one combined of two different genotypes. Perhaps it was the stress of trying to adapt to a role he wasn't yet used to filling. Commanding the Empire's vast Expansion Fleet had given the then Prince Imperial wonderful leadership experience but it had not prepared him for when he became Emperor. Ruling a country was far different from commanding an army. More paperwork, less action. More planning, less results.

"You're dismissed."

The General saluted and with a dashing about-face exited the office.

Sincline flopped down in his desk chair with a heavy sigh. It was just one problem after another. Stolen mechs, escaped pilots, marital strife and terrorist attacks. He had been Emperor for a little less than a week and already the heterogeneous hybrid was feeling despicably inadequate.

_'You're a weak, pathetic fool._' His father's voice intruded on his already stormy thoughts.

"Shut up!" He snarled at the empty room. "I am not weak!"

Sincline stood and began pacing around his office like a caged beast. He prowled around the room, glaring and snarling at nothing, his mind racing with memories of his many failures to defeat Golion over the years and his father's mocking jeers and stabbing insults. There hadn't always been such enmity between them, no. The Emperor remembered a time when he had had a rather good relationship with his father. Before the problems on Altea, before Golion, before he started failing at everything, when he was still a successful warrior and leader. He had been the pride of the Empire! Daibazaal had actually praised him back then, not just praised him but actually deigned to _hug_ him in public.

The heterogeneous hybrid thought back to his last fond memory of his father, before the animosity sprouted between them. He had just returned from a successful mission subduing a rebellion on... oh, he couldn't remember the planet's name, it wasn't important. He had swaggered into the throne room and presented the heads of the rebel leaders to his father. Four (or was it five?) human heads, stuffed and preserved and mounted on a silver tray. Daibazaal was so pleased with his success that he actually came down from the dais! He rose from the Golden Throne and descended the red-carpeted steps and gave his son a real hug, full of warmth and pride and fatherly affection.

And then Sincline had asked why Sadak was prostrating himself on the floor and what had transpired in his absence. That was when he learned of the problems with Altea. That was when he learned of Golion. That was when his relationship with his father crumbled. That was when he became a weak, pathetic failure.

He fell back into his chair. Ignoring his datapad and the reports that he had not finished reading, he picked up his marriage contract.

"I am not weak." He informed the small datadisc.

It did not respond. It was just a CD and, in fact, could not speak.

He heaved another heavy sigh and set to work copying the disc before having an aide enter it into official record. Then he had to deal with the issue of the terrorist attack on the shipyard and think of a suitable method of retaliation. Threatening to kill more slaves for every time Amue and her cell disrupted the status-que just didn't seem to be working and the loss of slave labor wasn't exactly helping the economy either. He needed to think outside of the box, something he wasn't very good at...

His computer beeped, informing him that it was finished copying his marriage contract and he withdrew the copied discs and place them in a tray to be sent to the Archive department. The original he placed back it its plastic case to be taken with him back to his private study upstairs. As he stared at the small data storage device in its plastic case he thought he should probably send a doctor up to look at Fala. She had said that she was alright, that she didn't need a healer but he couldn't help but wonder if she were just putting on a brave face for him, not wanting to show weakness. His lovely birde was really far more Galran in spirit than she would have liked to admit and Sincline looked forward to the day when she would realize it.

...

Fala counted to one hundred after Sincline had left. When she was sure he was gone, the exhausted Empress slipped out from under the covers and out of bed.

"Lights." She ventured. Nothing happened, the room remained as dark as the sky outside. She tried repeating the Galran word her husband had used when she had startled him awake earlier. The lights blazed to life illuminating the whole room.

She padded barefoot and naked across the spacious bedroom to stand before the full length mirrors of the closet doors. The Empress turned in the mirror, craning a stiff neck trying to see every inch of her body, appraising her condition and the damage her husband had done.

The bite on her shoulder was ripped wider by his inhumanly sharp canines and was bleeding. Streaks of drying blood ran down her scapula and over her breast, it colored her hair which was now tangled and matted. Long scratches from his claw-like nails ran the height of her back from the top of her shoulder blades to just above her buttocks. Her ass sported its own set of claw marks, these horizontal rather than vertical. Sincline seemed to fondle with his talons rather than his hands. The tender flesh between her thighs felt raw and burned slightly when she walked. Her thighs themselves were tired and bruised from her husband's relentless pounding, pistoning his hips in his efforts to reach climax. Fala wondered how women ever managed to enjoy sex.

But maybe sex wasn't supposed to be this way. Her partner wasn't exactly normal, hadn't he even said that she would enjoy it more if she were Galran, or something like that? Maybe with a human man, a full blooded human man, it would be different. Maybe with Kogane... Tears suddenly stung her eyes and Fala sank to her knees.

_'Oh, Kogane, I'm so, so sorry!_' The Empress rested her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror and let herself weep. She didn't care that she was sitting naked in Sincline's room, she didn't care if a servant or slave entered to change the bloodied bedding and saw her disgraced form, Fala just didn't care anymore! As it happened, someone did walk in on her, but they weren't a servant or slave on the housekeeping staff.

The Captain of Fala's guard entered with two other members of her guard. The Captain saw her on the floor bloodied and sobbing and rushed to her side while snapping out quick orders in Galran. One guard crossed the room to check the hidden door between her chambers and Sincline's while the other poked her head out the door that divided the bedroom from the sitting room and called for someone else waiting outside. The Captain picked Fala up and carried her bridal style back to the bed.

The powder blue sheets were stained with the Empress' blood mingled with white stains left by Sincline. Long thin ribbons that looked suspiciously like Fala's fair skin curled in bunches in the center of the bed and she had to avert her eyes for fear that she might be sick. The Guard Captain, showing some empathy for her lady's emotional distress, set Fala's feet on the floor to free one hand. She puled the bedspread up over the pillows concealing as much as she could of the gory scene before laying the Empress back down on the bed.

Those that the other guard had summoned turned out to be her maid Marisol, a Galran doctor and his human slave whom had been a doctor on her planet before it had been conquered by the Empire. The Captain gave the Galran doctor a few short orders and stood at-ease by the Empress's side. It was the human slave that attended to Fala, the doctor pulling up a chair to observe and oversee her work rather than actually diagnose anything himself.

"He's not allowed to touch you." The slave explained. She opened a bag and withdrew gauze and antiseptic solution and began dabbing at the bite on the Empress' shoulder.

She winced at the sting of the anti-bacterial solution but was more glad to have it than not. Fala studied to woman tending her wounds, dark skinned and dark haired, she must have come from a planet that got lots of sun. It must be awful for her to now be forced to live on a dead sunless planet like Galra. Her eyes traveled from the medical slave to the doctor seated behind her. "If he's not allowed to do anything then why's he hear?"

"He's His Eminence's royal physician and is supposed to be teaching me Galran medicine." A look of vexation crossed her face and Fala wondered just how much teaching was actually going on. "I used to be a trauma surgeon back on Earth before it was conquered and when you came to live on Galra the Emperor asked for a human female with medical training. Well, it sounded better than what I had previously been doing, so I volunteered."

Fala wanted to ask what she had been doing in between Earth being conquered and becoming her doctor but decided that she probably didn't want to know. Instead she said, "I have some friends from Earth."

"Marisol." She nodded. "We met when HIs Eminence was interviewing us to be on your staff. Sit up please."

She obediently sat up so that her doctor could fasten a white gauze bandage over the wound with strong clear medical tape. "No." She said. "I mean before I came here. Kurogane, Seido, Shorty and Kogane; the Golion team are from Earth. Japan, I think they said, thought I don't know if that's a town or provence or what."

The doctor's hands paused in her ministrations. "The Golion pilots are from Earth!"

Fala nodded.

"Why the hell did they never come and try to free us!" Her hands fell away from the Empress and she stared at her in shock. "They freed Jarra and Amizone and helped Heracles! But they ignore their home planet when they have the strength and power to do something!"

Fala wasn't sure exactly what to say to that. She'd never even thought about it really. If Kogane had asked to take the Lions to Earth she would have been more than happy to go alone and save his people just as they saved so many others.

"The enemies of this Empire do not concern you." The Guard Captain snapped suddenly. "You are here to tend to Her Majesty's injuries and nothing more."

The human doctor instantly demurred and finished sealing the bandage over Fala's shoulder. "Turn over please."

She tended the rest of the Empress' scratches, scrapes and bruises in silence. Everything hurt but nothing was very critical or life threatening. When all her injuries had been cleaned and bandaged if it was needed the doctor gave her an aspirin and Marirol help Fala walk from Sincline's bedroom to her own. The Empress laid down on top of her soft and welcoming pink bedspread promptly fell asleep. The doctors both human and Galran were dismissed, Marisol was given orders to stay in case Her Majesty needed something when she woke and the Guard Captain stepped out. The two other guards she had brought with her loitered in the corridor outside.

"She looked allot like that Heraclesian princess." One was commenting.

"I was under the impression that the Heraclesian princess was supposed to look like her." The other replied.

"That's not what I meant." The first shot back.

"Stop that, both of you." The Captain snapped when she stepped through the door. "Our job is to keep her safe, not gossip about the royal couple's bedroom practices."

The two women snapped to attention. "Sorry, Captain!"

The Captain sighed and massaged her temples. "You're dismissed for now. I'll take this watch."

The two exchanged a look. "Are you sure, Cap? I heard Gibra's shipping out later today."

"Just go."

...

(A/N: Short chapter is short. )


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Ten:

Kogane sat dozing lightly in the pilot's seat of Black Lion's cockpit. They were two days out into their week long journey from Altea to Heracles and the Lions were not equipped with long journey stasis functions of any kind neither did they have any sort of warp-drive or faster-than-light propulsion. While the Lions were all space worthy, they really _weren't_ meant for interplanetary travel. Kogane shifted in his sleep and Blue Lion's key fell out of his pocket making a decidedly loud _clank_ on the paneled cockpit floor.

The Golion Chief jerked awake, ready for action.

He glanced around wildly for the source of what had roused him. All the readouts on his monitors read normal. The other three Lions were still with him, there was no unexpected meteor shower, no space debris to collide with, no enemy ships in the area. No danger. Kogane relaxed back in his seat, his hand drifting down to his pocket to run his fingers over the key to Blue Lion, the key to Fala's Lion. It might be a silly idea, but he thought of the small blue and gold pendant as a sort of 'token' from his lady. He was her champion and he would save her from her fell captors with his own two hand, he would would find a way to penetrate the energy barrier surrounding the planet and storm the castle to rescue fair lady from... Wait, where was the key?

The still groggy Lion pilot fished his hand in his pocket in a desperate search for the key. It wasn't there! Blue Lion's key, Fala's key was suddenly missing. Panic seized his heart. The last place he'd had it was in the Control Room beneath Castle Gradam, he had placed it in his pocket after Raible had asked him to keep it safe. From there he had rushed to Black Lion and taken off. That meant that it either had to be in Black Lion somewhere or else he had lost it in the shaft or the tunnel that lead to his Lion.

Kogane bolted to his feet. He stepped around his chair, eyes scanning wildly for the key. He found it within an instant, on the floor by the chair. Relief washed through him and he released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in. Kogane picked up the key and held it out in front of him glaring as if to reprimand the trinket for giving him cause to worry.

"Fala..." He sighed. "I hope you're safe..."

...

Fala drifted back to wakefulness in slow, steady stages. The bed beneath her was soft and comforting, the sheet spread over her back light and soothing. She imagined herself back in her bedroom in Castle Gradam back home on Altea. It was a lazy morning and Hys would come barging in any moment to scold her for sleeping-in. The ache in her muscles was from judo training with the other Lion pilots. It was a pleasant fantasy, one she sorely wished was her reality and everything else had just been a long terrible nightmare. But she had to face reality eventually, it was better to have it be on her own terms rather than waiting for someone else to come and rouse her.

The Altean born Galran Empress pushed herself up off the pink bedspread and stepped out of bed clutching the sheet that had been covering her around her still naked from. She padded over to her closet, averting her eyes from the sight of her own reflection. She had gotten a good enough look at herself last night when the wounds were still fresh, she didn't need to see them again now that they were dried to scabs. She pulled the closet doors open wide and stepped down the isle of clothing.

The dresses were all so extravagant, made of heavy expensive fabrics or with equally heavy and expensive ornaments sewn into them. Didn't Sincline think to get her anything light weight and practical? He had known enough to get her exact measurements. She longed for something like the pink one piece jump-suit she'd had back on Altea, with its high collar and long frilly sleeves. Instead she found a light cotton dress with a wide drooping collar that showed slightly more clevage than she would have liked and long trailing sleeves that drooped at the shoulders exposing her bandaged bite-mark. It was the lightest and plainest item in her whole damn wardrobe and the Empress slipped it over her naked form without corset, bodice, chemise, bloomers or undergarment of any kind. She was married to a savage, nobody would care if she dressed as a savage. Besides, she didn't want to run the risk of tight and constricting undergarments and clothing irritating her wounds.

Now clothed, the Empress stepped out of her bedroom to find her maid, Marisol, dozing on the sofa in her sitting room. She thought momentarily about waking her, but what would be the point? The woman would probably just fuss over her, insisting she rest or what not. Fala did not want to rest, she wanted to leave, to get out, to escape, to get away. She tip-toed to the door that would lead out into the corridor and opened it as silently as she could... and was greeted by the back of a guard's uniform barring her path.

The Captain of Fala's guard turned to face her, bowing respectfully. "May I be of service, Your Majesty?"

She slammed the door in her Captain's face without so much as a word and retreated back to the bedroom. The sound of the door slamming had roused Marisol and she groggily rose from the couch to follow her lady back to the bedroom. Fala prowled the room restlessly, like a caged lioness searching for a weakness in the bars of her cell, a slip-up by her keepers. Her eyes once again fell on the window and she revisited her half-backed escape plan from just before her 'wedding'.

"Can I get you something, m'lady?" Marisol asked.

The Empress ignored her, her eyes fell on a heavy-looking marble bookend that was currently serving the purpose of a useless decorative table ornament. She lifted it, testing it's weight in her hands before lobbing it directly at the window. It hit the center pain with a resounding _thunk_ and slid down the transparasteel 'glass' to clatter on the floor.

"Damn." She muttered.

"M'lady...?" Marisol ventured startled by the outburst.

The Guard Captain appeared in the doorway. "Everything alright in here?"

Rage and despair penetrated Fala to the core and she rounded on the Galran guard, focusing all her unchanneled feeling into one single question. "Where's Sincline?"

"His Eminence is currently-"

"Take me to him!"

"Certainly, Your Majesty." The Guard Captain once again bowed. "Shall I wait in the outer room while you prepare?"

"I'm ready now." Fala snarled. She had no real desire to see Sincline, she would be perfectly content if she never saw him again for the rest of her life. But she wanted to get out of her suit, away from this whole damn floor. It seemed she'd spent all her time on Galra in this damn Royal Residential Wing. If she couldn't get away she would at least get out.

"I'm sure you are, Your Majesty." The Captain nodded. "But you might be more comfortable if your maid found you a pair of shoes before we left."

Fala glanced down at her bare feet, her fury momentarily deflating. She looked back up at Marisol whom promptly disappeared into the closet to find a pair of slippers to match her dress. When she had slipped her dainty feet into them the Captain stepped aside, holding the door open for her Empress to pass. The Captain fell into step behind her, following Fala from her suit down the corridor to the lift.

Inside the lift she rested her forehead against to cool metal of the carriage wall. What was she doing? She didn't want to see Sincline! She just wanted to get out of the royal suits for a while. Out of the corner of her eye Fala saw the Captain of her guard take out what looked like a digital pocket-watch (if such a thing existed). The woman sighed at whatever time it was before replacing the chronometer in her pocket. They reached the business wing of the castle and the lift doors parted for them.

Fala stepped out, storming through the halls and corridors with her nose held contemptuously high. She hated everything around her she decided. She hated this place, this planet and this castle, she hated these people, she hated their customs, but most of all... most of all she hated their king, their Emperor. Her eyes burned with loathsome passion when she thought of him, her mouth set in a thin line of a frown. As she passed through the halls people on either side of her flattened themselves against the wall just as they had done for her husband. It was a silly thing to think that this weak little human woman could pose any sort of threat to them but for some reason passers-by felt the urge to flee and hide from her, so strong was the Empress' aura of hostility and contempt.

The Guard Captain remained ever by her lady's side, silent and stoic as they made their way to the Emperor's office.

Fala paused outside the door. She didn't want to see him. She really, really didn't want to see him. One delicate and fair hand drifted up to her shoulder to lightly brush over the gauze bandage there. Perhaps she could turn around and tell her guard to take her somewhere else. She was Empress after all. The Galran woman had to do what she said, right? Fala would say that she's changed her mind. They shouldn't disturb the Emperor, he had work to do. Take me somewhere else.

Before she got the chance to, however, the Guard Captain opened the door for her Empress.

He was standing by the window, leaning over it more accurately. His forearm resting on one of the transparasteel panes, his forehead resting on his forearm, his eyes glaring fixedly on something outside and far away. Fala could see lights slowly rising into the air, a capitol ship taking off from from the castle's own hangar.

"Whatever it is, just put it on the desk and get out." He snarled not bothering to look up.

"I'm not one of your lackeys!" The Empress snarled back matching his tone.

Sincline looked up from the window in honest to goodness surprise. "F-Fala." He then composed himself. "I would have thought you'd be resting. You're strong. That's good."

He wanted to invite her in, tell her not to linger in the doorway but he hesitated. She was strong of character but he was slowly realizing that her body was not quite as strong as the will that drove it. The Emperor did not want to push her, neither did he want to run the risk of hurting her yet again. As much as she meant to him, she also seemed to never miss an opportunity to piss him off and Sincline had long since come to terms with the fact that he did not manage his anger well, often and easily resorting to physical violence to vent his frustrations.

An awkward silence fell between them that was only broken when Fala's Guard Captain entered and shut the door behind her making the couple jump.

Sincline's eyes shifted from his wife to her Guard Captain. "You're dismissed."

The Captain bowed respectfully and left leaving Fala alone with him, her heart sank. Once again trapped in a room with a man she hated.

He pulled the heavy curtains closed over the window and turned to face her, giving her his full attention. His voice was flat and expressionless when he said, "Take your clothes off."

"What!" She hugged herself, crossing her arms over her chest and backing up against the closed office door. "Again? Here? No! Didn't you have enough last night!"

Her heart raced in a panic. Memories of his excruciating vigor flashed through her mind and the scratches beneath her dress, the bite on her shoulder and the tender flesh between her thighs all throbbed with phantom pain.

Sincline did not move. Normally, when his orders weren't immediately obeyed he would close the distance between them and tear her clothes off himself, but the Emperor didn't trust himself to touch her. Instead he said, "Let me look at you."

She made no motion to comply. "And after that?"

"And then you can put your clothes back on."

"Just like that." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's the catch?"

"Just let me see your wounds, Fala!" He snarled in impatience. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his sharp nails threatening to tear through the fabric of his gloves and into the flesh of his palms. Still his feet stayed rooted to the spot. He would not allow himself within striking range of her. "Its not like I'm ordering you to get on your knees and suck me off!"

The Empress' cheeks colored at the idea. She had never even considered the possibility of taking his... her mind searched for a word that didn't make her cringe, taking _him_ into her mouth. She remembered his length and thickness, the odd bumps and ridges that textured his shaft, his dark blue balls that hung below it and the thick silver hair around his base... Her stomach gave a sickening lurch at the idea of putting any part of it in her mouth.

Sincline watched an expression of revulsion cross his wife's face and he bit the inside of his cheek. Did the idea of sex with him really so disagreeable? He had always thought his bedroom skills were rather good. The gods knew he'd had plenty of practice!

Fala reluctantly pulled up the hem of her dress, lifting the material up over her legs, her hips, her shoulders and her head. She stood naked save for her shoes before him, still he did not make a move toward her and the Empress was glad for it.

"Turn around." He croaked.

Fala slowly turned in a circle, allowing him a full view of the long gashes that ran the length of her back and width of her buttocks. "Satisfied? Admiring your handy-work? Does it make you hot?"

He ignored her scathing insinuations, asking instead, "Will you scar?"

"I hope so." The Empress growled. "I hope I get gnarled nasty scars that you can't stand to look at! I pray to God that I become so revolting to you that you dismiss me like one of your servants and send me home!"

"I would never dismiss you." Sincline muttered and it sounded as if he were trying to make it sound like a comfort rather than the threat Fala took it as. She slipped her light cotton dress back over her head not wanting to stay exposed to him any longer than she already had to. He sighed in resignation. "You're tired. Neither of us got much sleep last night. Go back to your rooms and get some rest."

"Don't order me around like one of your little harem-slaves!" She snapped. "I've been cooped up there for a week and I'm sick of it. I'm not a docile little princess content to stay locked in your cold dark tower, Sincline. I'm going out and there is nothing you will do to stop me!" At least, she was going to _try_ to get out and she _hoped_ there wasn't anything he could do to stop her.

"You want to go out...? Alright, we'll go out."

Fala bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted out of the castle but she didn't want to go out with _him_. Her guards, fine. She had grown accustomed to them and didn't mind their aloof company, she might even be able to find a way to give them the slip and get away, get to Amue's rebel group and find a way back to Altea. But with him... With Sincline with her she was sure she's never manage to squirm out of his grip! Forget about getting out of sight or away!

He dialed something on the comm. built into his desk and barked a few short commands in his own language before looking back up at her. "Preparations for our outing should be done by the time we're ready, my dear."

"I'm ready now." She blurted out without thinking.

An amused smirk graced his thin blue lips. "My dear, I would be more than happy if you were to spend the rest of the day with your nipples poking through your dress where I could admire them. But something tells me that you would feel rather uncomfortable about it."

Feeling suddenly scandalized, the Empress's eyes fell down to her chest where she saw that the light cotton of her dress was, indeed, raised in two delicate beads. She crossed her arms over her breast in sudden shame, her face coloring a bright shade of pink in embarrassment and mortification. "Its cold in here!"

"I didn't say it wasn't." That amused smirk of his widened into a grin of devilish glee and the color of Fala's cheeks deepened. He knew just as well as she did that there was nothing wrong with the temperature in the room and he assumed it was a sign that she was not as adverse to his attentions as she acted. "Perhaps we should get you a warmer dress. Hmm?"

...

Sincline removed his torn gloves and cast them into the nearby waste basket, he then examined the cuts he had dug into his palms. Nothing worth getting worked-up over, just cat scratches really. The cuts he had made on Fala's back looked far worse and the heterogeneous hybrid was once again reminded that his darling bride was not as tough as he was. With all his time and experience with humans he should have remembered just how fragile they really were, it was careless of him and he should know by now to take better care of his things. Fala might talk a good fight, but she was still _only human_ and had all the weaknesses and limitations that went along with it. Something that was a 'tiny scratch' to him might be a 'severe gash' to her.

The Emperor mentally kicked himself for his foolishness and pulled a dark tunic on over the simple shirt he had been wearing, new gloves, his sword belt, a red cloak and he was ready for an outing with his wife.

...

The corset Marisol had dressed her in pressed on the gashes on Fala's back, pushing them together, making them sting and making her all the more aware of the damage. Her only comfort was that the constricting article was so tight that there was no need to worry about the wounds reopening at any point on her outing. It just wasn't going to happen. And she had a more pressing concern at the moment anyway. How in the world was she going to evade her husband and manage to escape? And, where was she going to go after that? She had no idea where Amue's rebel group was hiding.

'_One thing at a time.'_ She reminded herself. Yes, the issue of finding Amue and her group would come up eventually, but not if she wasn't able to escape in the first place. Escape now, worry over getting lost on a hostile alien planet later. She turned in the mirror scrutinizing her attire. '_Not practical_.' She decided. The long black dress with modest gold fringe she now wore was lighters than most of the gowns she'd worn since arriving on Galra. However, its many long skirts would make it difficult to run in. Likewise her corset made breathing difficult, the last thing she wanted was to faint in mid-escape only to wake up right back in this room with a very pissed off Sincline looming over her.

"Don't I have anything in a 'pants suit'?" She asked.

Marisol shook hear head in the negative. "No, m'lady, but you look lovely as you are. I'm sure His Eminence would be pleased."

Yes, and that was all that mattered, wasn't it. Pleasing his His pompous spoiled Eminence. Fala gritted her teeth and turned back to glare at her reflection as if her mirrored image was somehow to blame for her current misfortune. And maybe it was. Maybe if she wasn't so easy on the eyes Sincline would never have developed this fixation he has on her. She highly doubted he desired her for any reason beyond her physical beauty.

There was a knock on the door of the outer chamber and Marisol left to answer it, quickly returning with Fala's Captain of the Guard. The Empress hadn't seen her since she had been dismissed from Sincline's office and she wondered where the woman had gone during the interim. Her curiosity quickly diminished, however, when she reminded herself that it wasn't pertinent to her escape plans and so she shouldn't care. It was no business of her's what Sinclin's lackeys did with their free time.

"Your Majesty, I'm to escort you downstairs to the car." Said the Captain.

Fala nodded and followed the woman out. The car was a long black heavily armored vehicle that hovered over the ground on small anti-grav pulsers, all windows but the driver's windshield were tinted so dark that to see inside them was impossible. Her Guard Captain opened the car's only passenger door and Fala climbed in to find herself in a very spacious back seat that would have made a cozy sitting room were it not for its other occupant. Sincline sat to one side, an open boom in his lap. He looked up when she entered and motioned for her to sit by him. The Empress gritted her teeth, reminding her self that she planned to escape on this outing and she wasn't going to have to endure him much longer. Her Guard Captain as well as the Master of Sincline's Royal Guard entered after her and took up seats opposite the imperial couple.

The moment all party members were inside the vehicle shot away from the castle like a bullet from a gun. Sincline closed his book, his attention shifting to look out the window as the car moved. Fala recognized the book as the one she had seen on his bedside table and even thought she had just seen it for herself, she still couldn't imagine him as a great reader. It just didn't seem part of his general character, he was just to impatient and anxious for any sort of heavy reading. The conflicting images of him just couldn't be reconciled in her mind and so she set her escape plant to she side momentarily and asked, "What are you reading?"

"This." He held the book in his hands, turning it over to look at an intricate design that had been pressed in to the back cover. "Its a dramatic telling of the exploits of Eliindaal _fin_ _Galraprima_, the first Emperor of Galra, my ancestor. I suppose you'd call it 'historical fiction'."

"Oh." Fala once again returned to her platform of disinterest, the two images of him had been reconciled. He _would_ be the type to read a book about his ancestor, it wasn't that he liked reading, it was that he found it gratifying to read the exploits of his blood kin romanticized and immortalized in fiction.

"I can have it translated into Altean if you'd like to read it for yourself." He offered.

"No."

The Emperor looked almost disappointed for a moment before his face molded into an expression of indifference and he shrugged returning his attention to the window and the barren landscape that was rushing by, the blank mask of his face reflected in the dark transparasteel of the glass.

"Where are we going?" Fala asked. If she was going to escape she best figure out where she was and what was around her.

"To Nargothrond." He answered shortly, whatever the hell that was.

Nargothrond, as it turned out, was a city. The largest city on the planet actually. It had once been the seat of the Imperial capitol and home of the first Galran Emperor, Eliindaal _fin_ _Galraprima. _The capitol was moved out and away from the city, however, during the Second Age under the reign of Empress Fingaal _ni Undomil. _Fingaal had feared that having the Imperial palace and home of the royal family situated in the center of a civilian metropolis was more of a liability than it was a strength. She commissioned a new castle be build far from the city's limits and the old palace be given to Menagroth as tribute to the great God-King. Thus the old palace became the High Temple and Demon Castle where Sincline was born and grew-up was constructed. Fala, knew none of this, of course.

The car passed through dense buildings and narrow streets, neighborhoods as old as the monarchy itself. Some buildings looked new and on the cutting edge of design both in terms of functionality and Galran pop-culture and then others showed their age both in weathering and design, architecture as old as it was alien reflecting a shadow of what the city might have looked like back in the First Age when it was still young, the monarchy still fresh. Fala leaned back from the window as the car slowed to a stop and her Guard Captain and the Master of the Guard climbed out to secure the area for the Imperial couple.

They had stopped at an open-air plaza just outside of a short stone wall that ran the perimeter of an enormous and ornate building that looked big enough to hold both Castle Gradam and Demon castle together with room to spare. The Empress had to pause and admire its domed roofs and intricately carved pillars in the forms people and beasts, all alien to her eyes yet no less beautiful. A single tall tower rose out the center of the compound reaching up beyond the dark layer of clouds where it was lost to her eyes.

Sincline placed a single gloved hand on her shoulder and tilted his chin up indicating the ornate goliath of a place. "Want to see inside?"

"What is it?" She asked in breathless awe. Not even the depressing ever-night of planet Galra could dull the spender of the place and Fala had to wonder at the architect who created it and how someone capable of creating such beauty could come from such a barbarous and savage people.

"The High Temple." He answered simply.

The High Temple, the seat of the gods, Galra's blood-thirsty evil heathen gods. Fala shuddered at the thought that such beauty could hold such vile iniquity within its walls.

"Are you cold, my dear?" Sincline's soft voice whispered in her ear, his warm breath sending a short thrill down that side of her body.

"I'm fine!" The Empress bit out, her cheeks colored a very attractive shade of pink at his sultry voice and intimate closeness. Fala climbed out of the car, feeling suddenly claustrophobic and needing of air, even the vile putrid air of planet Galra; she just wanted some space between herself and him.

Sincline followed her out grinning.

Fala ignored him and cast her eyes about the plaza, getting an idea of the layout and trying best to plan out a possible escape. They stood in a wide open square made of dark stone. A tall fountain made from the same stone was erected in the center of the square several meters from the open gates of the High Temple. A number of people gathered around it, lovers sitting together sharing sweet nothings, children with their governesses tossed coins of silver and bronze in to the water for wishes. It was all so urban, not at all what the Altean-born Empress had imagined a Galran city to be like. Had the people been human rather than reptilian this could easily be evening at any town on Altea. But she pushed that idea aside. Fala did not want to draw parallels between her people and Sincline's, no, she wanted to escape.

The square was to wide and open to make a strait break for it. It was well populated but the crowds were not dense enough to hide her not to mention that a single human would stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of a mod of green, blue and grey skinned aliens. Likewise, aside from the fountin in the center there were no structures in the square, certainly nothing large enough for her to hide behind or provide cover should Sincline's guards choose to fire on her (which she honestly couldn't decide whether or not they would, surely they might try to stun her at the very least). And then the question of where she would go once she had escaped rose in her mind again.

Her husband came up beside her, taking her arm in his. "Come with me, my dear."

Purely for lack of a better plan she allowed herself to be lead through the gates of the High Temple and she uttered a silent prayer to God do deliver her from these workers of iniquity, these bloody men.

The High Temple was just as mesmerizing up close as it was from afar. Each of the massive pillars that supported the canopy overhanging the exterior walkway was carved differently in the shapes of Galran men and women and beasts and creatures which Fala was unfamiliar with and could not name. No two pillars were the same and each one reflected a small amount of personality of sorts. The immense double doors of the Temple were thrown open wide and priests and pilgrims alike strolled in and out of them freely with an air tranquil pride that Fala found disorienting in people of the Empire. There was no feeling of malicious war-mongering here, only calm dignity and honor.

The first few rooms that had originally been part of the Imperial Palace in the first age had been stripped away, their walls torn down when the palace was converted into the Temple. Entrance hall, great hall, ball room and grand escalier had all been combined into one massive chamber as had countless rooms from the floors above. All this had been done to make room for an immense statue of Menagroth. Fala stopped in her tracks at the goliath sized idol. Each of the statues feet was the size of a full grown human man, his legs tall and thick were plated with beautiful blue and green stones as was the rest of his naked body and they perfectly mimicked the scales that the great majority of the Galran people hand fro skin. A cape of solid rubies had been carved for the statue, its thin crimson slabs held together by what looked like a lead plaster that had been painted the same shade of red to better hide the seems. In his hand he held a massive crystal sphere and in the other was a golden scepter topped with a golden hand.

Sincline knelt at one of the statue's enormous feet and began removing his gloves.

"What are you doing?" The Empress asked, her half-baked plans for escape once again forgotten.

Her husband smiled up at her, thinking her question a sign of true interest in the customs of her new people and answered, "I have not yet thanked the God-King for the gifts he's given me." His eyes roved over Fala's figure from head to foot with warm hunger. "I wouldn't want him to think me ungrateful. The gods have a tendency to take back what they've given if they feel their favor is unappreciated."

Sincline drew his knife from his sword-belt and slit a long cut across his palm. He cupped his hand, letting the blood pool there for a moment before spreading it over the statues large foot, his head bowed in prayer. Fala's stomach churned at the action, was she going to be expected to follow these barbarous practices of self-mutilation in the veneration of their heathen gods and false idols? The Empress shuddered at the thought, her mind once again returning to her plans for escape. She walked in a wide circle about the room ignoring the beautiful mosaics and reliefs of scenes from Galran scripture but noting instead three other doors beside the main entrance. She glanced back at her husband whom remained kneeling before his heretical idol. Would it really be so easy to slip away from him?

Fala kept at a slow pace, not wanting to arouse his suspicions should he choose to open his eyes and see her running from him. The Empress slipped inside the room to the right of the Menagroth statue hoping to find another exit, a servants' door or something of the sort. What she was greeted with was not a way out but rather another statue.

What looked like a massive stone wheel had been placed in the center of the room she now stood in, within each rung of the wheel had been fitted a mirror. Each mirror reflected a different version of herself and Fala blinked at the images of her appearing suddenly fat, or unhealthily skinny, unnaturally tall or abnormally short... trick mirrors, all of them. All but one. Had the wheel been a clock the mirror fitted to the one o'clock position was a real mirror and reflected her as she was and it was also this mirror of the wheel that was indicated by a large stone hand plated in the same blue and green scales as the Menagroth statue.

Fala's eyes drifted up above the large stone wheel to see a statue of the Galran god of Doom and Destiny laying atop it. One blue and green stone hand was draped casually over the mirrored wheel, the Wheel of Destiny, with his index finger pointing to the normal mirror, the reflection of the present. The other hand his cheek rested in, supporting his face. The god of Doom and Destiny looked down at her with an amused thin-lipped smile on his face, as if he knew something she did not and he found it very amusing. Leaning against the Wheel of Destiny (and also probably acting to stabilize the eccentrically designed statue) was an iron scythe, the Sickle of Doom.

The Empress tore her eyes from the pagan deity and returned her attention to her search for another exit. The room was circular in design, the walls painted with scenes from what she assumed were scripture or legend (probably both) but there was no other door. With a sigh she returned to the main chamber to find Sincline still kneeling in prayer. Fala never would have taken him for a religious man. But then again, she had never imagined him as much of a reader either and she wondered just what else she didn't know about him. But then she reminded herself that she didn't care and strolled past her kneeling husband to the room opposite the one she had just exited.

In this one, like the previous one, the room was occupied by another statue. This one of a goddess that her Guard Captain had told her was the God-King's _ardan_, whatever that was. The word had been cropping up every now and again around her and she recognized it only because those she spoke to whom spoke her language didn't translate it into Altean. Sincline had used the term with her as well, calling her 'his _ardan_' before proceeding to brutalize her in bed. From what she could gather it was something similar to a lover. Fala looked up at the pagan God-King's lover and wondered if the goddess went willingly to his bed or if she had to be forced as Sincline forced her. She stood with one blue and green scaled hand resting on her round hip, the other lifted up to touch her lips as if sharing a sultry secret between herself and whomever else was in the room with the glittering jeweled statue. She looked playful, almost happy. No, Fala decided. The goddess' mythology would probably have her happily laying down her her king.

The Empress turned her attention from the statue to give the rest of the room a cursory glance not expecting much. There were paintings and reliefs of the goddess and the God-King locked in an embrace, of her standing at his left-hand while he reprimanded another god, etc. But there was no other exit, no other way out. She was about to turn back when strong arms wrapped themselves around her and she felt the familiar warmth of Sincline's body pressed against her back.

"That is Aradianya." He purred in her ear and gently nibbled her lobe. "She is Menagroth's consort and the goddess of _Arda_."

"Oh." His wife replied not knowing what '_arda_' was exactly and not caring anyway.

"They say that _ardan_ who share a kiss in her presence will be blessed." He continued coming around to face her, his eyes smoldering with desire.

Fala knew what was coming and she took a step back but before she could get any farther he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back into him, melding her body against him. "You are my _ardan_, Fala." He whispered gazing down at her, the smoldering passion in his eyes tempered by a look of affection that she felt didn't belong. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, not demanding or invasive as he had been the previous night when they had consummated their marriage, no. This kiss was gentle, soft and full of warmth and affection. Feelings Fala wasn't used to experiencing from him. When they broke away he studied her for a long moment as if searching for a change he hoped to see.

"If I were to ask anything of Aradianya, it would be to have you feel for me as I do for you." Sincline said at length.

The Empress studied his pleading eyes and glimpsed the briefest moment of vulnerability behind their golden surfaces and she wondered if he didn't actually love her in some warped and twisted way of his. Perhaps he did. After all, coming from such a repulsive and savage people as he did, how would one express their love if not by power and dominance? But regardless of how the despot felt about her, it didn't change her plans for escape. She still intended to get away and no amount of pretty words from him would change that.

...

After their visit to the High Temple, the Imperial couple was driven to a posh restaurant for lunch. The Emperor and Empress were seated in a private parlor with high backed gold chairs with over-stuffed red velvet cushions. The room was dimly lit in what might have been called 'romantic mood lighting' but Fala viewed it as excellent cover for a possible escape. If only they weren't surrounded by all his guards! Damn.

"I trust we can eat without any repeats of our earlier meals together." Sincline crooned, picking up his knife and fork and cutting off a large bite of the steak that was in front of him.

Fala caressed the handle of her own knife laying in its proper place setting on the table and she imagined stabbing the utensil through her husband's eye. She then looked up at all the guards that surrounded them. Two by the window, one in each corner of the room and her own Guard Captain and his Master of the Guard flanking the door. Attempting to stab him now would be a futile effort. "I can be civil."

"I'm pleased to hear it."

...


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: Well, that was a fun little outing. Who's up for a little more sex? Hmm?)

The Sindariin

Chapter Eleven:

As fate would have it Fala never did get her chance to escape. Sincline stayed ever by her side and for the briefest of moments when they were separated he made sure that she was surrounded by a dozen or more of her guards. The most infuriating of missed opportunities came as she was washing her hands after using the restaurant's restroom. She had been wondering if she'd be able to swipe the knife from her place setting at the table so that she might have at least some version of a weapon when a cool breeze caressed her cheek. Looking to see what had caused the not unpleasant airflow Fala found that the bathroom window had been left open and it looked just big enough for a person of her size to squeeze through.

Just as she had begun to approach the little window to freedom, however, the troublesome Captain of her guard had entered to enquire if she was alright on the Emperor's behalf. Fala had gritted her teeth at the failed attempt and told her Captain that if Sincline was getting impatient waiting for her then he shouldn't have come along in the first place. The Captain then suggested that the Empress tell him that herself as it was not the place of her Guard Captain to tell the Emperor what he should and shouldn't do. She then made a casual remark about how it was dangerous for the Empress to linger near windows and how she might set herself up to be an easy target for any assassin.

Fala had flushed when the Captain closed the open window with a knowing smile and ushered the Empress back out of the restroom.

Curses! A whole minuet of planning _ruined_!

After lunch, Sincline took her to a production at the Nargothrond Imperial Opera House. She had made some off handed comment about being surprised that the Galra Empire even had some version of the fine arts never-mind actually appreciating them.

Her husband had growled in irritation that, just like any society, the Empire had its fair share of "useless artists" and those useless artists had their fair share of "moderate contributions" to the Empire's overarching culture and society. He had also reminded her that is was impossible for any nation to be comprised entirely of "savage barbarians" and that it was very small minded of her to think otherwise. Fala had flushed at his scolding, making her feel guilty but unsure as to what she was guilty about exactly.

They had sat in a private box with a perfect view of the stage below and the Empress had to marvel at the elegant spender of the Galran opera house. The dark green curtain shimmer iridescently when viewed from different angles and sparkling silver-dust had been polished into the finish of every wood surface in the place making her feel as if were sitting in a faerie-land rather than the theater of an hostile and alien nation.

Next to her Sincline studied the program, skimming the plot synopsis and taking note of the names of one or two cast members, the writer and the composer. When he was done he set the small disposable datapad aside and looked board and disinterested for the entire rest of the show.

Fala couldn't understand the language, but she found the music and songs sung by alien voices to be rather pleasant, more enjoyable in fact than she had expected. From what she could gather of the story the protagonist was a prince (of sorts) whom had been cast out by his father (there also seemed to be another brother involved in this but his role seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of the story to Fala). The prince then traveled to a neighboring kingdom where he met a princess and fell madly in love with her. The princess, however, did not share his feelings and turned him away. The spurned prince not taking the rejection well then began laying siege to her country (jee, that sounded familiar).

She had glanced over at Sincline at that point trying to gauge his reaction but he just looked board. And when the lights went up for the intermission he sent a guard down to fetch his book and a small reading light from the car.

The second half opened with the prince fighting the princess' chosen champion against a background of a castle under fire. The prince eventually triumphs over the champion and his army lays waste to the castle, completely leveling the paper-machete structure to the ground. Standing in the rubble of the destroyed castle with no princess, no kingdom and not riches he finds a small trinket of sorts and this single little bauble suddenly makes the annihilation of an innocent kingdom worth while.

The curtain fell, the lights rose, the cast came back out for final bows, the audience applauded and Fala sat confused and slightly disappointed.

Her husband replaced his powder blue bookmark in her book and stood. Offering his hand to Fala he asked, "Well, my dear, what did you think?"

She ignored his offered hand and stood on her own. "I'm not sure what to think really. It wasn't all that great. Kind of long and drawn-out with an unsatisfying end."

The Empress expected him to rebut with a statement about her just not understanding Galran culture or being to soft-hearted to appreciate the protagonist's warmongering efforts. Instead he said, "Yes, well, Minra _ni Bhomeh_ has never been very gifted where story telling is concerned, but then again, I doubt even the most skilled of writers could take the story of the Sindariin and turn it into a satisfying epic. It just can't be done. Children's stories should stay children's stories. But what did you think of the music my dear?"

Sincline locked arms with her and together they exited the royal box, their guards falling into formation around them so smoothly and fluidly that she didn't even notice until they reached the crowd of other patrons whom quickly shrunk back and out of their way.

The ride back to the palace was quiet and uneventful and Fala was disappointed at never having been able to manage an escape. She sat despondent in her seat next to her husband watching Demon Castle draw ever nearer in the window, a monolith of lights against the background of a dark and mottled landscape and sky. Her view was momentarily obscured as they passed through a forrest of dead black trees and she sat back with a sigh.

"It wasn't always like this, you know."

"What?" She looked over at her husband as he turned a page in his book, not bothering to look at her when he spoke.

"Galra. The planet wasn't always the way it is now." He explained. "During the Second Age a great cataclysm shook the entire planet, turing the sky black, burning the land and poisoning the water. Before that I'm lead to believe that this place more closely resembled some of the more humid climates of Altea."

"What happened?"

He shrugged. "Not sure really. From the descriptions it sounds like a volcano chain decided to all erupt at the same time, however, accounts from the event describe a great ball of fire falling from the stars, that would imply a large meteor. Of course, it could always be both."

Fala returned her gaze to the window, the castle was once again visible through the thinning branches of the ghostly forest. "What kind of trees are these?"

"_Chalha_. Their wood is almost as strong as tempered steel. There are a number of furniture pieces in the castle dating back to the Second Age made from _chalha_, very rare."

"Ah."

...

Sincline dismissed their guards at the lift up to the Royal Residential Wing and he and Fala rode up alone together. The moment the sliding door was shut, making a soft _hiss_ as it did so, the Emperor wrapped his arms around her pressing his pelvis into her backside.

"Fala..." He whispered into her hair.

"What are you doing!" The Empress exclaimed in alarm. She struggled in his embrace as if she could actually getaway from him in the inclosed elevator. "Let go!"

"I want you." He made no move to loosen his hold on her and inhaled the scent of her hair deeply. His hand drifted up from her waist, over her breasts restrained within their bodice and up to her shoulder. One quick jerk and he had ripped the gauze bandage away, exposing his bite from their previous tryst. What little scab had formed over the wound was torn away with the bandage and fresh bright red blood welled up from it. He lowered his lips to the wound just as the lift doors opened.

"Don't!" Fala jerked free of his grip and dashed out into wide corridor of the residential wing one hand cupped over the open wound. She should have dashed to her rooms. Locked herself inside and away from him, pushed some heavy piece of furniture over the door that connected their bedrooms and searched ardently for a means of escape, _real_ escape not just a semi-pleasent outing. Instead she turned and stared at him.

Sincline stepped out from the lift, as he stalked toward her one hand drifted up to his mouth. Taking the middled finger of his glove between his sharp teeth he slowly pulled the dark material from his hand almost sensually. Reaching his naked hand out toward her the Empress clearly saw the still fresh cut on his palm. The one he'd made back at the High Temple. "You're more than welcome to taste my blood in return, Fala."

She backed up. He closed the distance between them, once again wrapping an arm around her waist and melding his body against hers.

"I _want_ you to." He whispered, offering the open slice in his palm to her lips.

Her stomach churned at the idea of drinking fresh blood let alone _his_ fresh blood. She turned her head away from his upturned palm and facing the wall asked, "Why?"

"Because..." He faltered, suddenly unsure of how to explain this most intimate of rituals between _ardan_ to a foreigner. "Because I want to share."

Fala turned back to look at him, one golden eyebrow raised quizzically. Of all the possible answers he could have given her, that was the one she had _least _expected. The idea of Sincline sharing _anything_ was preposterous to her, especially the idea of his sharing it _willingly_. And sharing not a possession but his blood, something his society seemed to have so many weird and confusing rituals and beliefs about... to say she was stunned in disbelief was a bit of an understatement.

Her husband sighed dejectedly and lowered his injured hand. He picked her up eliciting a yelp of surprise from his beautiful bride who struggled in his arms. Sincline ignored her, shifting his struggling wife in his arms to awkwardly open the door to his suit.

"What are you doing? Put me down!"

He said the word that activated the lights in the room just as the door swung closed behind them and picked his way across his sitting room to the bedroom beyond. Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the room to the sumptuous oversized bed and lowered his uncooperative wife down on the fresh and new navy bedspread. Fala promptly rolled off the bed the moment his arms were no longer restraining her, reclaiming a standing position, the Empress glared at her husband with the wide bed between them.

"What are you doing?"

He did not answer. Instead the heterogeneous hybrid removed his other glove as slowly and sensually as he had the first. His boots were the next thing to go, leaning against a bedpost for balance as he slowly unbuckled each shoe and tossed them aside. Next his sword belt, tunic and undershirt; then his trousers and underwear. He stood naked before her, the bed still separating them, a self-satifyed smile spread over his thin blue lips when he noticed her eyes roving his well toned frame.

Fala stood rooted to the spot. The door connecting her room to his was just behind her, all she had to do was turn and run and she could be safe in her own suit away from him. But she didn't move. Her eyes were drawn to his naked alien body. She took in the broad set of his shoulders, the smooth plane of his stomach and chest, his pectorals were tight and well defined and speckled with thin silvery white hair. His stomach drawn into six tight abs, to lower of which were framed by sharp angular swimmer-lines that drew her eyes to the patch of thick white pubic hair that crowned the base of his partially erect penis.

Sincline placed one knee on the bed, slowly crawling over it to the other side where his _ardan_ stood transfixed by the site of him. He sat on his knees on the bed in front of her and gazed into her deep blue eyes wide with apprehension and leaned forward to kiss her... And it was then that she finally pulled away.

"Please don't." She whispered.

He growled low in the back of his throat and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back toward him, the other arm snaking around her back to pull at the lacing that held her dress closed. "Don't what?" He whispered, the hand holding her wrist moving to help his other hand with her dress' lacing. "Don't kiss my wife? Don't try and lay with my _ardan_?"

"I don't like it." Fala whispered in response, knowing it would have no effect on him. He didn't care what she did and didn't like. All he cared about was what he liked, what he wanted.

"That's because you can't relax." Her husband leaned back in to kiss her, pressing his lips against hers in a gentle kiss similar to the one he's given her in the High Temple before the statue of Aradianya, not invasive or demanding but soft and affectionate. He then trailed butterfly kisses across her jaw, down her neck and over her shoulder until he reached and closed his mouth once again over the open bite there. He lapped her blood up greedily while his hands finally managed to untie the lacing of her gown. The material fell from her shapely form exposing the tight restricting corset and unflattering bloomers she wore beneath it.

"How can I relax when the man I'm married to won't listen when I say 'no' and doesn't give a damn about me."

Another low growl rumbled out from his throat, this one full of frustration. Sincline seized her corset and with one hard yank wrenched the article in too, ripping it off her and tossing it to the side. He then grabbed her and throwing her onto the bed beside him asked, "Would you prefer I act as I did last night?"

Fala winced when her now exposed scratches hit the bedspread and threw her arms up when he climbed on top of her, pinning her to the bed. "Not on my back, please."

His expression melted from frustration to something the Empress refused to admit resembled concern and he turned her over onto her hands and knees, ripping her bloomers off as he did so. "Alright." He whispered. "You don't have to be on your back."

He began licking the cuts on her back, the feeling of his tong running up the length of her spine making the Empress tremble with something she refused to admit might resemble 'want'. Fala felt his stiff member rub between her thighs and her heart leapt into her throat. "No. Please no."

She flipped over into a sitting position, crossing her legs and wrapping her arms over her breasts. She stared wide eyed at his engorged erection, a clear sticky bead of pre-cum dripping from its tip. Here eyes flicked up to his face to see that he was not at all pleased with her continued resistance and she searched madly for a way to placate him while still keeping him from spearing her with that _thing_ of his.

"I have been very patient with you thus far..." He warned.

Considering what Amue had told her of her time with him, Fala believed it and she did not want him to louse was tiny bit of patience he had left. Her mind raced through what little she knew of the male body searching for something else she could do for him aside from spreading her legs and submitting. She remembered his words in his office earlier that day, 'suck him off'. She gave his long thick rod another glance, this one appraising. She really didn't want to put it in her mouth but if it was a choice between that or between her thighs she decided that in her mouth was the lesser of the two evils.

"I just... I don't want it inside..." She began, unsure of how to phrase it exactly. Her cheeks colored at her own words. "Can I... I could suck on it for you instead."

He raised one amused eyebrow, an interested smile on his lips. "You'd rather I cum in your mouth?"

Fala fidgeted, she hadn't thought of that. "I... I'd prefer if you came... outside...?" She confessed, expecting him to once again turn angry and force himself on her.

Instead his smile broadened. "Why, Fala, you've got a bit of a dirty side to you."

"What?" She blinked, not understanding.

He leaned forward and gave her another gentle kiss. "Alright, my dear, I'll cum for you."

Sincline stretched out on the bed next to her, reclining back on the pillows, his arms behind his head, casual and relaxed. He gazed at her expectantly, his expression full of warmth and affection that she felt didn't belong on him.

Fala didn't want to suck on him, she really _really_ didn't want to suck on him. She wanted to be safe in her room, or better yet on Altea light-years away from him. But the thought of Altea reminded her that her planet and people were still under his control. She would be no safer from him there than here in this room. And if she refused his sexual advances what would he do to her people in retaliation? With a sigh of resignation the Empress leaned over his pelvis, grimacing at the pungent scent of his quivering member. She closed her eyes and licked his long shaft experimentally. The bumps and ridges that spiraled his length felt odd against the soft slippery flesh of her tong and she wondered what they were.

He sighed the moment he felt her mouth on him, relaxing a tension he didn't know he had.

She licked the pre-cum from his tip and once again grimaced at the pungent and bitter-sweet flavor. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, but it most certainly was not pleasant either, it was simply a flavor. But it was the texture that Fala found so revolting. Thin but sticky and very slippery. Like meted sugar, almost.

"More." He ordered.

She lifted her mouth from his erection and took a few calming breaths to steady her nerves, her heart hammering against her chest before plunged the thing deeper into her mouth.

"Yes..." He husband sighed softly. One blue clawed hand drifted down to stroke her golden hair in appreciation. "Use your tongue."

Fala suppressed a whimper of disgust and flicked her tong along one of the ridges that textured his thick shaft, eliciting from him another sigh of pleasure. At least one of them was enjoying this. She explored the alien texture of his member with her tongue while her lips massaged what little of his shaft she dared take into her mouth. His tip dripped more and more slimy pre-cum onto the back of her tongue and she fought to keep from gaging.

He began bucking his hips, forcing his length deeper and deeper into her mouth with every thrust, slow at first but growing with speed at every thrust. Only when she felt his tip ramming into the back of her throat did he taper off to a steadier pace that was only just bearable. Her lips were almost to his base now, he was so deep in her mouth and she continued to massage his shaft, what couldn't fit in her mouth she stroked with her hand hoping to bring him to a sooner finish. Her tongue still flicking around his shaft, teasing his bumps and ridges, making him moan with abandon.

Both of his strong clawed hands were on her head now, forcing her down on him, his stiff erection as deep in her mouth as she could take him. His thrusts once again became quick and forceful and Fala wondered if he was close to his climax. Would he remember to pull out and not cum in her mouth? It occurred to the Empress then that he hadn't actually promised he wouldn't cum inside her, just that he would cum.

His tip hammered at the back of her throat and Fala was sure she was going to gag. Then, suddenly, he pulled out from her mouth, but before she had even registered this she felt a hot jet of sticky... _stuff_ hit her in the face. Three quick spurts, the first landing almost dead center between her eye (which were closed, thank God!), on her chin and over her breasts. She rose back to a sitting position, blinking at her husband, his hot white cum dripping off her face and down onto her breasts. She felt disgusting and decided that this was just as bad as having him inside her for real. His cum felt nasty on her skin and stank terribly! She wanted a shower, she wanted a shower _badly_.

"You look so cute covered in my jizz." Sincline muttered. Leaning forward he wiped some of his cum away from her lips before kissing her. This time he did stick his tong in her mouth, but after his penis she decided it wasn't so bad. She let him explore her mouth with his but made no motion to return the action.

"I want a shower." She said when he finally pulled away.

"Alright." He muttered, flopping back down against the pillows as he did so. "We'll shower, just give me a few minuets."

Her husband pulled her down next to him and he cuddled up close to the disgusted and mortified Empress, burying his face in her hair. Fala did not want to wait for him, she did not want to shower with him, she didn't want to have anything to do with him. She listened to his soft steady breathing, felt the warmth of it on the back of her neck, and she wondered if he was going to fall asleep as he had after their first time. Would she be able to sneak back to her own room once he had nodded off? Or would he wake to the sound of her moving and insist on a second go-around as he had the previous night? Sincline's arms snaked around her lithe frame, apparently he wasn't asleep. One arm curling under her, pulling her body flush against his the other wrapping itself over her shoulders, his hand fondling her wet and sticky breasts.

Fala laid there in his arms letting him molest her further while her mind screamed for a way out of his arms, out of his bed, out of his room, out of this God dammed castle!

He took one sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger, applying the slightest bit of pressure making her hiss. "Please stop."

"You're still horny." He muttered into her hair. His hand released the delicate bud on her breast and drifted down her form, sliding over her flat belly, her curved hip, down between her thighs... one clawed finger gently nudged its way between the soft lips of her labia carful not to nick the sensitive tissue with his nail. She felt him smile against the back of her neck. "So wet... did sucking me off really make you that hot?"

"No." She growled, flushing at the accusation. His finger continued to rub between her lower lips, massaging the responsive bud of her clitoris in a way that Fala was loath to admit was pleasing. He body felt hot all over and she was sure a bright blush covered her skin. She wished he would just stop, she didn't like how such an evil hateful man could make her feel this way. _She_ did not want sex with him, but her body... whenever he began his amorous attentions her treacherous body would respond in earnest.

"Don't deny it, me dearest." Sincline whispered, withdrawing his finger from between her thighs. "The proof is right here."

He ran his wet finger over her cheek, mingling her clear feminine nectar with his thick white seed. Fala shuddered at the sensation, a not of revolution twisting in her stomach and she feared she might be sick. Well, fine! It would serve him right if she ended up vomiting on his bed. Let's see him say she was secretly enjoying herself then. Ha! Stupid, egotistic, self-entitled, narcissistic bastard!

His hand returned to its ministrations between her thighs. Two fingers this time, one outside still massaging her neglected clit, the other slithering its way inside of her. "If you're patient a bit longer I'll be able to satisfy you with more than just my hands."

"That's not necessary." his wife growled through gritted teeth. Why did his finger inside her feel as good as it did? His penis had hurt some much the previous night. Granted a finger was a dozen times small than his long fat organ, but she would have thought that part of her would be so sore that anything forcing its way inside it would have hurt. But his finger didn't. Fala didn't want to admit it, not even to herself, but his finger felt... _good_.

"It may not be 'necessary'." Sincline crooned in her ear. "But I _want_ to. I want to make you moan, I want you to scream my name in ecstasy. I want you to cum for me even more than I cum for you."

"And I want that shower now."

"Of course, my dear." He withdrew his fingers from inside her warm and receptive body and Fala was disturbed to find that she missed the sensation. Her husband rolled off the bed and snaked his arms under her, lifting her into his arms.

"I can walk on my own, thank you!" The Empress struggled out of his embrace and dashed to the bathroom the moment her feet hit the soft carpeted floor. She would have closed the door on him, had he not been right on her heals, pressing his way inside behind her, once again wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him.

"You're so stubborn, my dear." He trailed butterfly kisses down her neck following the familiar path to the bite mark he'd made on her shoulder. When his lips closed over the open wound she pulled away.

"Can I please just shower in peace?" She asked. "I'm tired and covered in... I just wanna get clean and go to bed."

"Of course." Her husband brushed past her and turned on the faucet, toggling the hot and cold temperature gauges he set the water at a level that both he and Fala would find agreeable and stepped in.

HIs wife gritted her teeth. What part of 'I' did he think meant 'we'? Self-obsorbed bastard! But she stepped into the shower all the same. At the moment all that mattered to her was washing his slimy disgusting seed from her body. They could quibble about his selective hearing later.

The water was warm but not hot, the water pressure strong but not overly so. Her hair was soaked the moment she stepped under the stream and it clung to her shoulders and back, curled around her chin and breasts, framing them perfectly.

"You're so sexy, Fala." Sincline whispered and leaned down to once again kiss her forcefully on the lips. HIs hands roved over her back and buttocks, irritating the gashes he had made there the previous night and making her hiss into his open mouth. He pulled away and grumbled in displeasure. "I am counting the days until your weak human skin is mended."

"You don't like my complaints, don't tear me up." She snapped back and turned her back to him. The water now cascading down her face she allowed herself a brief moment to weep, using washing the cum from her face as a pretext to bury her head in her hands. She felt Sincline's hands on her waist but she ignored him. There wasn't anything she could do to prevent his molestations anyway. He leaned down and licked the upper most tips of her scratches making her flinch. "What are you doing?"

Her husband did not respond. He continued licking her wounds, traveling downwards slowly and steadily, not leaving a single bit of the long gashes un-caressed by his tongue. He had to crouch on his knees when he reached the marks on her soft round buttocks and Fala started in shock.

"What are you doing!"

He ignored her question as he did the first time she'd asked and licked along each horizontal gash before climbing back to his feet. Sincline wrapped his arms around her once again, this time carful not to press his body against her back and irritate the marks on her back. "Better?"

"Now that you've stopped, yes."

The heterogeneous hybrid frowned into her hair. "Sometimes I wish you were a half-breed like me."

"And sometimes I wish your father had killed you instead of the other way around." Fala snapped.

He turned her around in sudden rage, forcing her to face him. Her eyes were bright with sudden startled fear and he glared at her with all the menace he could muster when he snarled, "You'd be dead now if my father were still running things! Do you think he would have left you alive once your precious planet had surrendered? No! He would have killed you the moment Altea was under his control! He would have sent you to the Area to be slowly beaten to death for the entertainment of the populace or maybe would have chained you up in the banquet hall and put you through _umaraque_. The point, my dearest wife, is that you would be dead right now if it weren't for me!"

"That's not true!" His wife snarled back. "I would have escaped and gotten away if it weren't for you! I was almost out, back on the _Angband_! I would have gotten away! I would have found Amue, I would have gotten off planet, I would have gotten back to Altea! Golion would be back together and we would have defeated you!"

If Fala had thought he was angry before he was suddenly livid now. She stepped backwards into the shower stream away from him but he grabbed her, turning them both around he pressed her against the shower wall, her hands bracing her against the impact. She could feel his hot breath on her ear and the Empress shuddered when he said in a voice far to soft and temperant when compared to his mood, "You shouldn't say such nasty things, my dear. You might feel that way now, but your tune will change. Just you wait. One day you'll wonder how you could have ever thought of leaving me for your pathetic little Golion Team."

She shuddered at his words. Why was it that when he said 'Golion Team' it sounded like 'Kogane Akira'?

"...Now brace yourself." He guided her hands to a steel bar fitted into the wall in front of her, the kind of thing they put in showers to deter slipping. Her fingers curled around it hesitantly, wondering just what exactly he was planning to do when she felt him slide one of his legs between hers, spreading them farther apart.

"No!" She gasped.

"Don't fight me, Fala!" He snarled, his hands pressing down on hers, causing just enough pain to make her reconsider her position but not enough to do any real damage. He remembered just how fragile she was, how easily he could damage her with his superior strength.

"But you already had your climax!" She wailed, partly out of pain and partly from hysterics.

"And its high time I gave you one of your own." Sincline crooned back. "Its time you learned just how pleasurable being my _ardan_ really is. I'm going to fuck you so senseless you won't be able to think about anything but my cock inside you. You'll beg for me to fill you and you'll never again think about leaving me for your paltry and plebeian Golion pilots!"

...

General Gibra's command ship, the _Glamdring_, landed just outside of Castle Gradam on Altea. A squadron of soldiers fanned out as the gangplank was lowered and Raible stiffened at their presence. The old strategist and steward had come to meet the Galran General when he arrived, hoping to coax the villainous marauder into allowing him to retain his position as Steward of the non-existent Altean court so that he could be ready and in a position to help the rest of the Golion team when they finally came back to steal Blue Lion. He had come unarmed with no guards to protect him but the Galran soldiers searched him anyway, forcing the old man to the ground, his hands on his head, his legs spread slightly. It was only after the squadron's commanding officer was satisfied that he was nothing more than a harmless old man that the General exited his ship.

Gibra stepped down the _Glamdring_'s gangplank with the measured and purposeful gate of a man that had lived a life of discipline and control and Raible thought that he could have been a soldier of Altea were it not for the air of conceited pride that also wafted around the alien General. He stopped just short of stepping on the strategist and the old man was gifted with an uncomfortably close view of the General's highly polished brown boot. He snapped something out in that dreadful language of theirs and Raible was dragged back to his feet by the collar of this shirt.

"You are Raible the Strategist, Steward of Altea." The General said, it wasn't a question. "I am Gibra _fin Surkhal_, the Red General of Galra. The title does not refer to the color of your people's blood."

"Oh well _that's_ comforting." The strategist muttered. The corner of the General's eye twitched minutely and Raible made a mental note that the Galra could hear better than a normal human. To Gibra he said, "I am honored to greet you General Gibra _fin Surkhal_ and I welcome you to your world."

The steward gave an over exaggerated bow. He had committed himself to playing nice with the occupying Galran forces until the boys could find a way to penetrate the barrier protecting the capitol and save Fala. He gritted his teeth, putting on a grim smile that he hoped woudl look welcoming to the General and raised his eyes to the alien's own golden pupiless ones.

"This world is not the domain of his Eminence the Emperor Sincline _Hangalra_, we are welcome to come and go as we please and you _should_ feel honored to serve us, Steward." The General barked back.

"Of course." The words tasted like acid in Raible's mouth.

"Now, take me to Blue Lion."

...


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Twelve:

The Captain of the Empress' Royal Guard was called to her Lady's room early in the morning. "Morning" on Galra was defined as the first twelve hours of a twenty-four hour cycle. It was nearing the close of the ninth hour as the Captain stepped off the lift on the royal residential floor. She crossed the hall to the Empress' chamber and knocked gently on the door and it was quickly opened by her human maid. The slave stepped back for the Captain to enter, offering a submissive bow of respect to the Galran woman.

Empress Fala_ ni_ Altea was sitting on her sofa dressed in a fluffy pink house-robe sipping a mug of some steaming liquid. Judging by the teapot that rested on a silver tray on the coffee table in front of her it was likely tea of sorts. The Empress set her mug down stiffly as if just that simple movement elicited great pain and the Captain had to wonder what the Emperor saw in such a weak creature as this human woman. She motioned for the Captain to come and sit beside her and the Galran woman crossed the room, bowing respectfully before sitting as she was bade.

"Your Majesty, you summoned me."

The Empress pulled aside the collar of her robe to reveal the Emperor's _velhil_, the bite mark on her shoulder now covered in a fresh gauze bandage. "What is this?"

"That is a thin, translucent fabric with an open weave commonly called 'gauze', Your Majesty." The Captain supplied dutifully. The Empress glared at her in displeasure, that was not the answer she had wanted. "Forgive me, that was an attempt at humor. May I assume you are referring to the wound beneath said gauze?"

"Sincline keeps reopening it. He keeps sucking my blood from it." The Empress explained righting her robe. "Last night he wanted me to drink some of his blood in return. Obviously, there's some deeper cultural meaning here that I'm just not getting. So, Captain, I ask you again: what is this?"

The Empress' slave brought out a second mug and filled it with tea for the Captain whom sipped it slowly.

"Thank you, Marisol." The Empress said. The Captain only nodded. She was not in the practice of thanking slaves for preforming their normal duties and felt awkward doing so. But if the Empress was going to lower herself to showing her slave any sort of difference then her Captain of the Guard should as well. Fala _ni_ Altea then turned her eyes back on the Captain silently demanding an answer to her query.

The Captain set her mug of tea down on a pink lacquered coaster and said, "Its something _ardan_ do to show that they mean more to one another than just casual sex. Blood is life-force and the sharing of blood between _ardan_ is the sharing of each others life-force. Its supposed to be a private ritual called '_vel'_ and the bite marks are called '_velhil'_. Most people make their _velhil_ on the neck, but since you're human you're jugular vein is a bit closer to the surface than a Galran's and so if His Eminence bit you there you would have bled out and died. That's probably why he chose to make his _velhil_ on your shoulder."

The Empress sipped her tea with an unsettled expression on her fair human face. "Can you explain to me what '_ardan'_ means exactly?" She said at length. "I think I have an idea of what it is but I want to be sure."

"Certainly, Your Majesty. Your _ardan_ is a person from whom you feel a strong feeling of _arda_." The Captain answered simply. The Empress seemed to pout at this answer however, so the Captain elaborated. "_Arda_ is a feeling of intense passion and devotion tempered by affection. Your _ardan_ would be a person for whom you are passionately devoted to, its the difference between a person you sleep with just for some free and easy sex and the person you sleep with because you share an emotional connection. I suppose in your language it would be something between a 'lover' and a 'mate'."

"This _ardan_ thing, is this a permanent matching? Is _arda_ forever or just for now?" The Empress pressed.

"By the gods no!" The Captain exclaimed. "The Galra by nature are not a monogamous people. _Ardan_ are never permanent matches and most often not exclusive either, a single person could have several _ardan_."

The Empress pursed her lips in disapproval and the Captain had to wonder just why the Emperor chose her for his wife and _ardan_ when she was not only ignorant of Galran culture but also disapproved of their practices as well. "And the blood thing, '_vel_', all _ardan_ share blood?"

This time in answer, instead of saying anything, the Captain unfastened the topmost clasps of her guard's uniform and pulled her high collar aside to reveal to the Empress a two-day-old bite mark that already looked to be half healed. "Yes, all _ardan_ share blood." Once she was satisfied that the Empress got the point she refastened the clasps of her uniform. "My _ardan_ is currently off planet working to further the glory of our great Empire and his _velhil_ will be gone before he returns just as mine will have healed on his body. But yes, Your Majesty, all _ardan_ preform _vel_, all _ardan_ share blood."

The Empress bit her thumb nail in thought. "And if one _ardan_ takes blood without the other offering it willingly? Or one drinks while the other refuses?"

The corner of the Captain's eye twitched noticeably. Oh dear, she was sure this fell into the 'intruding on the royals' personal lives' category of don'ts but it was the Empress herself whom was bringing her into it. If the Captain answered honestly and explained that it was a taboo to take blood that was not freely given from a lover she would essentially be insulting the Emperor, if word of this conversation ever got back to him it could cost her her job (and possibly her life depending on his mood). But if she refused to answer at all the Empress would be displeased and while the Captain didn't fear any form of retribution from the Altean noblewoman directly she was still very well aware that she would be slighting the second most powerful person in the Empire. Finally, the Captain settled on a diplomatic answer.

"In a case like that, Your Majesty, I would recommend that they sit down and talk. Communication is key to any relationship." This was advice she often gave her oldest daughter whom was at that age when boys suddenly became very appealing.

The Empress looked displeased with this idea and the Captain wondered how her displeasure would manifest itself. Throwing heavy objects and barking commands as she had done the previous day, quiet and sulky as she had been prior to her planet's surrender or violent and fatal as her husband's displeasure often tended to be. This time it was none of the above, the Empress seeming to sigh in resignation. She sipped her tea agitatedly, emptying her mug.

"What about rape?" She suddenly blurted.

The Captain opened her mouth to answer, thought better of it and closed it again. The Empress avoided her eyes and the Captain once again wondered why this woman was the Emperor's wife and not just another one of his harem slaves, one of his 'Collection'. Their relationship did not appear to be that of _ardan_ at all. In fact, HIs Eminence treated the Empress no different than his pleasure slaves so why did he make her his wife?

"Captain?" Her Majesty pressed.

"Ah... Galra is a place ruled by the strong, Your Majesty." The woman replied awkwardly.

"Yes, I got that."

"If a person cannot defend them self from an assailant no one will help them." The Captain continued. "If a woman attracts the attention of a man that she doesn't want for a partner she could try asking him to leave her alone, but if he's stronger than she is there's really not much she could do to prevent him from taking what he wanted."

"That's _horrible_!" Tears stung the young Empress' eyes.

"That's the way things are." The Captain shrugged. "Your Majesty, if I may offer some personal advice?"

"Fine, whatever."

"I was in charge of guarding His Eminences harem prior to your arrival on Galra." She informed the distraught Empress. "The women there shared much the same feeling you do about His Eminence and sex. But they found that it was easier when they didn't try to fight him. He has never liked having his demands denied or orders disobeyed and a weak human female with no combat training doesn't stand a chance against a Galran warrior-prince. It would be better for you if you just went along with whatever demands he makes of you."

Her Majesty's already fair human skin paled to an unsettling shade. "I could never willingly..." She trailed off not finishing her thought.

"You need not be willing, Your Majesty, just so long as you're not _unwilling_." The Captain continued. "As I understand it, His Eminence only becomes... violent, shall we say, when he is challenged. I'm not saying you go skipping towards him with a smile and a kiss, just don't push him away."

"That seems so passive."

"Its the best advice that I can give you."

The Empress sighed and leaned back on the couch. "Captain, what's your _ardan_ like? Not like Sincline."

"No." She shook her head suddenly seeming to glow with warmth and affection. "My _ardan_ is not quite as impatient as the Emperor seems to be. He comes from a military family and sometimes is just a little to tightly wound for his own good but once you get him in bed..." The Captain bit her bottom lip and made a soft sucking sound. "Dynamite, Your Majesty, pure explosive dynamite."

"I... see..." The Empress looked disappointed.

"But you were wondering how he treats me. Am I correct?"

"Yes." She whispered.

"One thing you need to understand about Galran's, Your Majesty, is that we heal much faster than you humans do and we can take much more... _damage_ as well." The captain thought it best to preface her next statement. "My _ardan_ and I are about as rough with each other as His Eminence appears to be with you. The difference is that while it hurts you, Galrans aren't bothered by it, in fact we find it rather stimulating. However, please don't think that His Eminence is like that with all his women just because he's half-Galran. As I said, I guarded his harem before you and he didn't harm the women who didn't fight him. Its just when that temper of his gets the better of him that he forgets how fragile your people are."

Fala _ni_ Altea sat in silent displeasure, revulsion playing across her face.

"If it really bothers you that much then teach your sons to treat women differently. Societies can be changed, more quickly so when people in a position of power are instigating said change."

The Empress jumped up as if she'd received an electric sock. "Sons!"

"Well, yes." The Captain nodded confused by the Empress' sudden panicked state. The scent of her Lady's fear was suddenly so thick in the room that the woman could almost taste it. "As the wife of the Emperor you would be expected to bear his heirs."

Didn't she know where children came from? Or did humans not reproduce through sex? No, she was sure they did.

"Oh, God..." Her Majesty's hands flew to her mouth in horror. "Oh, God, no. Please, no. Oh, God! I can't... I... Oh, God!"

The Captain stood hoping to help calm her distraught Lady but unsure as to what to do or say. The slave, Marisol, reappeared and the Captain was glad for it. Another human female would know what to do far batter than a Galran one.

...

Raible watched with clenched teeth as Galran scientists scuttled about Blue Lion's maintenance hangar beneath the lake. He stood next to General Gibra _fin Surkhal_, the fell alien commander not having let the old man out of his site since landing on Altea not two days ago. The old strategist wondered if the Galran General already suspected him of treachery. But then again, the Galra were such a devious and underhanded people themselves that they probably suspected treachery from everyone regardless. The question was, how strongly did Gibra suspect _him_ of treachery?

"Walk with me, Steward." The General commanded stepping along the observation platform on which they stood, to the wide service stairs that lead down to the hangar floor.

Raible fell into step slightingly behind the alien commander. The two walked a wide circle around the Lion, watching Galran technicians, engineers and other such scientists take apart the noble machine piece by beautiful blue piece. The strategist wondered exactly what they were doing with it, what they hoped to accomplish exactly. If Sincline had wanted the Lion destroyed it could have easily been done a million times over by now. Instead it was being studied and examined right down to every last nut, bolt and coil. Was Sincline trying to figure out how it worked? If so, then good luck trying to bypass the late King Raimon's ghost that protected the Lions from being piloted by evil hearts.

Speaking of the late king's lingering spirit, Raible could not help himself but smile at the effect their resident haunt was having on the occupying Galran soldiers. Nothing to grand, mind you, just little things like his portraits moving, objects flying off shelves, soldiers hearing a mysterious angry voice on their off shifts when they were trying to sleep. Nothing to big and obvious that cried 'ghost' but Raible knew what it was and he was comforted by the knowledge that his dearly departed sovereign was still with him. The strategist risked a sideways glance at the General, noting the circles under the man's golden eyes that were just a shade darker than the rest of his blue-green complexion. He wasn't sleeping well.

The two men finished their circuit about the room and stopped in front of the Lions open jaw. Its lower mandible had been stripped away revealing the delicate and complexed circuitry underneath.

"It really is a wonder..." The General mused aloud. He must have meant for Raible to respond because while his tone was soft and musing he had spoken in Altean rather than his own native language.

"What is?" The strategist opted to take the bate.

"How you're people could be so technologically primitive when compared to the Empire and yet have such a technological marvel such as this." Gibra answered without looking at him. "Tell me, Steward, was Golion not ori-"

The General's question was cut-off suddenly by a loud _crash_ that brought the entire hangar's attention to a fallen cable that had nearly crushed one of the Galran engineers. The man had just missed being pinned under the massive steel cable but only by inches and was currently laying on the floor with blood welling from the whole right side of his body. Gibra rushed to the scene leaving the Altean strategist forgotten for the moment. He glared upwards form where the cable had fallen and shouted to the maintenance worker that was hurriedly hoisting it back up again.

"What happened!"

"I don't know, sir." The other Galran answered back. "As the gods as my witnesses, I wasn't at my post." Yes, that was a wonderful defense, he wasn't doing his job. "It must have been the ghost!"

"The ghost!" Several of the other technicians, engineers and guards that circled the injured man gasped and pulled back. Some of them took out talismans of their pagan gods and began muttering prayers and wards as if such heathen idols and beliefs could protect them.

Raible noticed the minute twitch of the corner of the General's eye that was either a sign of tension or annoyance, not that the two were mutually exclusive. Gibra turned to the people that surrounded him and his injured engineer. "For the gods' sake! You're all acting like simpering little children! My daughters have more backbone than you! And you call yourselves men!" He glared down at the injured man. "Get him to the infirmary _now_! And you..." shouting back up at the tech with the cable now "... report to my office once that is secure and be sure that its _secure_! We will discuss your incompetence then! Steward, come with me."

Gibra lead Raible back out of Blue Lions maintenance hangar and back up to the castle proper. Galran soldiers saluted while human servants moved fearfully out of the way as the two passed and Raible was left to wonder why the castle help hadn't been made slave. For that matter, what hadn't the entire population been enslaved? The General lead the strategist to his office, what have previously been Raible's own office prior to the occupation, and opening the door invited the old man to sit with him.

It felt odd being invited into his own office but Raible considered it a minor miracle that the Galran commander had 'invited' at all instead of just ordering him to. Gibra poured two glasses, one of brandy for Raible and one of that dreadful blood-wine they drank. What had he called it... _yarbara_? The General slouched in the leather armchair behind the desk while Raible took one of the 'guest chiars' in front. Gibra removed his heavy horned helmet and massaged the sides of his bald scaly head where, Raible presumed, the alien had a stress-headache.

"As I was going to ask prior to that interruption," he said, "was Golion not originally from Altea?"

The strategist paused unsure if he wanted to answer the alien interloper or not and unsure of what the villain would do to him if he did not. Finally, he decided to tell the General the Golion lore but nothing else. What could he do with a story anyway?

"There's a legend handed down about a mighty robot." He began. The General sipped his blood-wine as the old man spoke, listening thoughtfully. "It isn't said who built the giant robot or why but it was said to be unbeatable! No enemy that stood before it ever lived to tell the tale of their battle. Finally, the mighty robot became so proud that it challenged the Goddess herself and was cursed for his pride. The robot would sleep until it could use its power for peace."

"And you believe this malevolent super-robot to be your Golion?" Gibra pored himself a second glass of blood-wine.

Raible remained silent, neither confirming nor denying the General's assertion.

"Tell me of this 'Goddess'." Gibra said, suddenly changing the subject. "As I understood it, Altea has only one god and he is male."

"God is all things, General." The strategist answered simply. He had not been a religious man since Altea's first defeat at the hands of the Empire fifteen years ago and the loss of his wife and infant son. Because of this he had felt awkward discussing religion and God specifically, he often questioned God's plans and purpose when faced with such horror and villainy as the Galra Empire. How could a just and merciful god allow such a vile and repugnant people to exist? The Lord had annihilated entire cities and tribes for less.

"Hm, that's a convenient belief." The General mused. "If your god can be all things then all things could be your god, its all a matter of picking and choosing. How very pretentious."

"We do not 'pick and choose'!" Raible turned a bright red feeling suddenly defensive. He himself may not have much faith in God anymore but that didn't mean that this vile alien interloper could go around flinging insults at something that has given his people hope these past fifteen years.

Gibra looked sideways at him, one hairless brow-ridge raised in a silent warning for the human to remember his place. The strategist instantly demurred, it wouldn't do for him to get himself locked-up as Lady Hys had. The boisterous headstrong woman had made the mistake of telling the General exactly what she thought of him the moment the Galran forces set foot within the castle walls. Needless to say, Gibra was less than pleased with her outburst and ordered the woman thrown in jail. Raible had the unfortunate task of informing the alien commander that Castle Gradam had no jail or dungeons. Hys had then been placed under house arrest, locking in a chamber in the servant's wing of the castle that was hastily renovated to accommodate prisoners. It wouldn't do for Raible to get himself thrown in there with her or worse killed before the boys could return to take back Blue Lion and rescue Fala. Speaking of the princess' Lion, would it even be usable by the time the boys came to claim it?

"Forgive me, my outburst." He said repentantly. "May I ask what you plan to do with Blue Lion?"

"You may ask all you like." The General answered and took another sip of his blood-wine. "But what the Emperor does with Blue Lion is his own business and he does not concern you or I. The Lions, all the Lions, are no longer the property of Altea but His Eminence, Emperor Sincline _Hangalra, _he need not share his motives or plans with little people such as you and I. I can tell you that Blue Lion will not be permanently harmed."

That was a relief, however small. If Blue Lion wasn't going to be 'permanently harmed' then they meant to put the feline-mech back together at some point. He just hoped they managed to reconstruct it before the boys returned and that it remained on Altea and didn't get shipped off to the Galran capitol where they couldn't reach it, just like Fala...

Before either man could say more on the subject, however, an attendant entered the office with a datapad and a tray of dispatches for the General. The officer withdrew one of particular importance from the que and handed it to Gibra. "News from our spy satellite over Heracles, sir." He said. "The four stolen Lions were detected entering the planetary space not more than a few hours ago."

...

Kogane and the others were greeted warmly by Prince Alor whom was more than honored to provide fuel and maintenance for the Lions while the team planned their attack on the Galran capitol. A few short days after Kogane and the others arrived on planet Heracles a Galran freighter was detected within the planet's finite space. The prince rushed to his castle's own Command Center with the Lion pilots close on his heals. They all peered up at the monitor to see the freighter slow its approach as a Herculesian patrol ship drew near.

"Un-identified Galran freighter," they heard the patrol ship hail the alien craft, "you are entering Heraclesian planetary space. If you do not deviate from your current course we will be forced to open fire."

A pregnant silence filled the comm channel after that. Kogane placed a comforting hand on the young prince's shoulder, they both had suffered much at the hands of the fell Empire and the older man tried to offer what support he could to the young monarch. And then then with a burst of static the comm channel was filled with the comforting ring of a familiar and most welcome female voice.

"This is Princess Amue of Heracles." She announced. "I request clearance to land. I have equipment pertinent to the fight against Galra!"

The young prince jumped on the Command Center's comm at the sound of his older sister's most welcome voice.

"Sister!" He called. But before he could give the princess permission for a safe landing, Kogane placed his hand over the transmitter, halting the young prince in his words.

"It could be a trick." He informed the boy.

"But that's my sister's voice!" The little prince argued.

The Black Lion pilot and Golion Team Chief was about the argue with the boy, reminding the young and naive prince just how crafty Galran forces were and that Sincline had used Amue against them in the past. But before he could get even a word out Kurogane cut him off.

"T'ch." The Red Lion pilot scoffed, placing his hands in his pockets. "What a bunch of paranoid neurotics we are. We call Ryou asking him to send us a Galran ship so we can figure out how to penetrate that planet's barrier and when he and Amue show up we instantly decide they're spies. Whatever happened to all that 'love' and 'trust' Fala always liked to lecture about?"

The mention of their own lost princess made Kogane pause, his hand drifting down into his pocket to caress Blue Lion's key.

"It's a freighter, a transport ship, not a fighter." Kurogane continued. "It hasn't got any guns on it except for inarticulate blasters in the front. Its not like they can really cause any real damage in that. We let them land and meet them on the platform with a host of soldiers of our own. If it's a trap we blast every last Galran that steps off that ship strait back to hell. If its not a trap then Ryou and the princess can laugh at us over lunch."

"I like that plan. Let's do that!" Prince Alor nodded enthusiastically.

Kogane still felt uneasy over the idea, but this was the prince's world and he was in no position to be giving orders. The outranked Golion chief cast an angry glare at his teammate for suggesting the plan in the first place before nodding his agreement to the child-prince. The Galran ship was given clearance to land and the Lion team with a host of Heraclesian soldiers met the ship on the landing platform. The ship's gangplank was lowered with a soft metallic hiss and the soldiers fixed their lazer-fifles on the now open exit.

Princess Amue along with three other women exited the ship, pausing at the site of the soldiers. "Hi."

The soldiers lowered their guns at the sight of their beloved warrior-princess. Kogane came up to her and glaring into her face which so greatly resembled Fala's asked, "Where's Ryou?"

"Back on Galra." She answered plainly not one to mince words. "I'm here to pilot Blue Lion in Fala's stead."

Kogane bit back the retort that they had asked specifically for Shirogane Ryou, not Princess Amue. Ryou had been Shirogane Takashi's younger brother before the late Blue Lion pilot's untimely death. He had also been a space pilot before being enslaved by the Empire just like the rest of them. He was a natural born pilot and fighter, the princess was... the princess was just another naive girl playing with big boys. The Black Lion pilot voiced none of these opinions, however, and instead stepped aside for her to pass. Prince Alor might become hysterical if he was denied seeing his sister any longer.

...


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: Happy holidays everyone. I apologize for the delay in updating. Hannukah came up faster than I had expected (they always seem to sneak up on me somehow), that is long since over but then there was shopping and present finding and/or making for my non-Jewish friends and that just reminded me that I still don't have a job which just depressed me which made me not really feel like writing much at all. I'm not very satisfied with this chapter but really I'm just happy I managed to finish it at all.)

The Sindariin

Chapter Thirteen:

Fala had never been so happy for her cycle to start in her entire life! The morning of her conversation with the Captain she had attributed the horrible cramps in her stomach and back as well as the sore muscle pains to Sinclin's rough treatment of her the previous night. But as the day had been drawing to a close and the Empress had retired back to her chambers for the evening she had discovered the blood stains marring her otherwise pristine white undergarments and had nearly jumped for her joy. After the Captain's off-handed comment about sons and heirs, Fala had spent the entire rest of the day in fear of the prospect of having to bear Sincline's monstrous offspring. When she saw the bright red spotting of her menarche the the Altean-born Galran Empress wanted to whoop and skip out of elation that she wasn't already carrying her husbands abominable demon-spawn.

However, this did throw into perspective her current circumstances. She counted herself lucky to have not already been impregnated by the fell Emperor, but how long would that last? Sincline seemed to like taking her to his bed every night, how long would it take him to really plant his despicable seed in her young lush womb? Fala did not want to wait and find out! She had to escape. For real this time. No more half-baked plans or ill-concived attempts that were nothing more than glorified acts of childish rebellion. No. She had to escape for real. Get out for real. Get away for_ real_! Otherwise, when the Lions really did come to her rescue (_if_ they ever did come)... when Kogane finally came to her rescue...

An image rose to the surface of her imagination. Black Lion tearing a wide hole through Demon Castle's walls, her beloved Kogane jumping out and racing through the halls in search of her, screaming her name in desperation to find his lost princess. He burst through the doors to her chambers and froze at the sight that he would see. Fala sitting on her sofa nursing an infant child with Sincline's blue skin and golden eyes... She would look up, her eyes shining with unshed tears...

"Kogane... I'm sorry."

With a snarl the Empress forced herself to end the sorrowful vision before it could become a prophesy of doom. She would not allow that to happen. She would _not_! She would get out before it came to that. Her menstruation offered her a little time, not much but a little. Her 'beloved' husband, as it turned out, didn't much care for laying with a woman during her cycle. Fala mentally scoffed. She would have thought that with all his blood customs and rituals he'd _love_ jack-hammering it into her during this time of the month. But no, the pompous and self-obsorbed bastard was squeamish about sullying his cock with her moon's blood. And because of that, he had spent the past two days of her menstruation in the fearful and submissive company of his 'Collection', leaving her in peace.

The Empress felt a pang of sympathy when she thought of the women in her husband's harem. But it was a sympathy she just couldn't afford at present. Right now she had to focus on her own escape. Once she returned to Altea and Golion could once again be formed they would push back the Galra Empire, tear their way into the capitol and finally put an end to the fell Empire's reign of terror! But first she needed to escape, she needed a plan, a _real_ plan.

It was for this reason that Fala now found herself in the castle library, the castle's _public_ library. She had already tried the 'Executive Library' which was were federal records (as well as other documents not open to the public) were kept and was politely but firmly denied access by the security clerk. The Captain of her guard acted as interpreter for this little exchange and by the time Fala had finally given up all three of them walked away disgruntled and harassed. Fala decided that there must be something in the Executive Library that Sincline didn't want her to see (not that she could read any of it anyway) and she was curious to know what it was. But whatever it was, it wasn't relevant to her immediate plans for escape and so she wouldn't think on it. After she rejoined the Golion team and the five of them finally put an end to the Empire and its reign of terror, then she could come back to Demon Castle and spend as much time as she liked sifting through and translating whatever she wanted from Galra's dreadful records.

At present she busied herself in the public library poring over maps. She couldn't read any of the place names with which it had been labeled and a number of the symbols used were strange to her and took a moments pause to understand. The Captain of her guard hovered over her, asking every now and again if she could be of assistance and if Her Majesty was looking for anything in particular. Fala brushed off the woman's offers and severely wished she could just send her away entirely. Her constant hovering made the Altean-born Galran Empress nervous and edgy. She hadn't yet decided if the Captain was trustworthy of not (as if any Galran _could_ be trustworthy, ha!) and she didn't want her running to Sincline and putting an end to her escape plans before she could even hatch them.

Fala _was_ looking for something in particular, but she wasn't exactly sure _what_ it was. Not yet anyway. She was sure she'd know it when she saw it. Mainly she was looking for two things: One, a way out of Demon Castle and two, a place that could be a likely location for Amue's rebel forces to build a base. If she could get out, she might be able to get to her rebel allies, if she could get to the rebels she could get off planet and back to Altea!

The Empress sat at a wide table with a dark surface made of crystal and glass. Projected onto this surface were detailed schematics of Demon Castle, blue-tinted white lines over a black backdrop showed her basic layouts, floors, ceilings, walls, etc. Green were hidden passageways, mostly servants passages or service ways for maintenance and such. Fala had considered these as possible escape routs at first but decided against them when she realized that they would be to well traveled by human slaves and Galran technicians to be of any real use. She had then thought about maybe passing herself off as a slave running errands for her master and sneak out fo the castle via the servants passages that way. But by now everyone in the castle would know her face and know she was not a slave (at least not _officially_ a slave, Sincline sure seemed to treat her like one). No, if she was going to escape she would have to find another way out.

Demon Castle must have secret passages hidden in it somewhere. As distrusting and war-like as the Galran people were she could not imagine them constructing their castle without at _least_ one secret passage for the royal family to escape through in the event of the castle being taken by an enemy force. She was sure one existed somewhere, she just needed to find it. That was why she spent hours poring over maps, floor-plans and schematics of the castle, ignoring the irksome cramps in her stomach and back. They were a welcome reprieve from the pains that her dear husband caused her. But getting out of the castle was only the first step.

Bright yellowish-orange lines marked electrical lines and power cables. These ran all over the castle in an intricate web, following similar patterns to the floorpans. Fala was sure this would be useful to know in the future (perhaps she could find a way to cut power to an area as a distraction) but it was momentarily irrelevant. What purpose was there in causing a distraction if you had nothing to do while your captors were distracted? No, the electric systems were good to know, but not very pertinent at this stage of her planning.

Cyan was the color for the castle's plumbing and piping systems and some of them looked big enough for a slender human to fit through it they crawled. The Empress filed this information in the back of her mind. She didn't much like the idea of crawling through a dirty pipe, but if that was what she had to do to escape, then that's what she _would_ do. She just had to make sure there would be enough air in the pipe for her to breath. It would be pointless to escape the castle only to drown in her very own rout to freedom.

Once she was out she'd still need a place to go.

Putting her search of the castle on hold for the moment, Fala called up a map of the surrounding area. The flat cell image of Demon Castle's layout disappeared and was replaced by a three dimensional hologram of a topographical map. She really had to marvel at the technology of the Galra Empire. They might be horrible, evil, war-mongering, genocidal murderers, but gosh darned it, they had some nice toys! Of course, all this lovely technology that the Altean-born Empress was enjoying was probably stolen from other people and societies, the planets they concurred, the slaves they captured. She highly doubted any of it was actually developed on planet Galra by Galran scientists.

Fala set the computer to display the map with Demon Castle as a center point offering her a wide view of the area surrounding the fortress on all sides. The three dimensional hologram made it easy to recognize land-formations like mountains, cliffs, rivers, etc. But she could not read any of their names, the Galran characters curved along the banks of the rivers or climbed up the sides of mountains giving names and meaning to the places she viewed, but the Empress couldn't read them. Neither could she understand a good majority of the symbols used on the maps. For example, on any human map the symbol of a skull with crossed bones or just a skull by itself placed on a map would indicate a dangerous area, however, the horned skull was the emblem of the Galra Empire and so its appearance on the map did not indicate possible danger but rather marked the location of an Imperial base.

She traced a road leading away from the castle toward Nargothrond with her eyes wondering if it was the one she and Sincline had taken on their little outing. She also wondered how feasible it might be for Amue and Ryou to have made one of their rebel bases near that rode. She then dismissed this idea as silly. It would be to risky for the rebels to have anything of consequence in such a heavily patrolled area, right smack dab between the capitol and the planet's largest city. Amue wasn't that stupid.

But at the same time, Fala was sure that the rebels would have a base of some sort relatively close to the castle so that they'd be in a better position to offer help to Golion when they finally came to put an end to the Empire's evil.

...If Golion ever came.

Every day that went by without so much as a blip of news of the Lions filled her with a saddening sense of dread. What if the Lions weren't coming to rescue her? What if they couldn't? What if something terrible had already happened to them? What if they had already been killed? What if Kogane had...?

...

The 'Blood Eagle' was an ancient Galran torture where the victim is held face-down while two long deep gashes are cut into his back. The ribs are then broken off from the spine and bent outward giving the appearance of gruesome bloody wings the victem is then hung up somewhere and left to bleed to death. 'Blood Eagle' was not a literal translation of the actual Galran name for this process, it was the name the Altean servants gave it the morning they saw the man mounted on the castle ramparts. General Gibra _fin Surkhal_ had a very low tolerance for incompetence and he had administered the Blood Eagle to the unfortunate Galran technician himself. The body was displayed from the castle ramparts as a warning to human subject and Galran soldier alike.

Raible couldn't help but feel a tinge of pity for the ill-fated Galran. Enemy though the man might have been, he still did not deserve the fate he was dealt. The old strategist paused to examine the body. It had been lashed by the wrists between two light-polls that ran the length of the castle battlements, the tought lifeless arms pulled the deep wounds open wider than they had originally been and offered anyone viewing the body from behind a ghastly glimpse of the reptile's vertebrae with the broken stumps of the ribs covered in dry and crusted blood protruding from it like gruesome crystals. The ribs, spread wide from the back, did indeed look like wings and Raible was disturbed to find that he found a measure of macabre beauty in the horrifying image.

Muttering a short prayer for his own immortal soul, the old strategist continued past the body and on to where he had been going before pausing to admire the despicable display. Galran supply ships had started to come to the planet, but they weren't bringing supplies to Altea, no. They were _taking from_ the beautiful utopian world. Now, every crop that was harvested, every livestock that was raised went to the Galra Empire. Grain, vegetables, fruit, cattle, poultry, fish and anything else that Altea could off was now the property of the villainous Empire whom took what they pleased and only left just enough to keep the people alive and strong enough to work and grown more. Raible stepped into the General's office without bothering to knock or request permission.

Gibra glared up angrily from his desk, he seemed to have been in the process of folding what looked like a hand written letter around a dried and pressed flower and the strategist had to do a double-take. Intimate notes and pressed flowers clashed so strikingly with the image of the alien General painted by his Blood Eagle escapade that Raible wondered if he had walked into the wrong office and was currently being glared at by the wrong Galran commander. (That all looked the same to him.)

The General set his letter to the side and stood, walking around from behind his desk he planted himself squarely in front of the Altean Steward, his hands resting on his sword belt. "Is it your custom, Steward, to enter one's office unannounced? Or are you being deliberately impertinent?"

The old strategist matched his eyes, glare for glare and ignoring the General's question voiced his concerns, assuming him to be pissy because the human had caught him displaying something akin to a 'softer side'. "You are taking to much from the people. The Empire has plenty of planets under it control to feed Sincline's gluttony, Altea only has Altea. We cannot feed both ourselves and your godless Empire as well."

The upper corner of Gibra's golden eye raised ever so slightly, an action Raible had come to equate to the Galran version of the human action of raising an eyebrow. "I don't hear anyone else complaining."

And no one else would complain either, Raible knew. For some reason, thought he tried the General's patience to no end, the old strategist remained unharmed. Gibra did not hesitate to dish out death and pain to any other who questioned, challenged or just plain annoyed him. However, with Raible he gritted his teeth and bared it. The strategist couldn't even hazard a guess as to why. The only possible thing he could think of was that Sincline, knowing that he had been like a father to Fala, had ordered him not to be harmed. But that idea was preposterous! That would imply that the narcissistic sin-against-nature actually _cared_ about Fala and considered her feelings. Hell would freeze over before that were ever true! But there really was no other explanation for why Gibra left the strategist unharmed after so many of his little bursts of insolence.

"May I remind you, Steward, that your pathetic little planet is now the property of the Galra Empire and no longer an independent governing body." The General continued. "Whatever goods that are produced on Altea are the property of the Empire and the Empire can do with them as the Emperor sees fit. You should consider yourselves privileged that His Eminence has not made the whole lot of you slaves. You enjoy the rights of any other citizen of the Empire. Your people can own their own property and have the protection of the Empire's military might."

"The Empire's military might that was still no match for five mechs and their rag-tag pilots." Raible muttered, forgetting for the moment that the alien's hearing was far better than that of a human's and he easily heard the remark.

Gibra grabbed the front of the strategist's shirt and lifted him up off his feet. He snarled at the old human offering an intimidating view of pointed teeth and sharp fangs. "Remember, human, that it is one of those same pilots that now sits beside the Golden Thrown as Empress of the Galra Empire. Golion's power will be added to that of the Empire's military and when that happens nothing will be able to stand against us! Nothing could stop His Eminence from crushing your pathetic little Leo Alliance and retaking the galaxy! Or even pushing beyond and becoming supreme ruler of the _universe_! Your pilots abandoned you. They stole from you and left you at the Emperor's mercy. Once our scientist figure out the secrets of Blue Lion we'll have the knowledge we need to take back the other four and your 'saviors' will die."

"What are you going to do with Blue Lion!" Raible gasped while clutching at the alien's iron bar-like wrist.

"Nothing." The General replied, plain and simple. He released his hold on the old man's shirt and let him drop to the floor, landing on his ass with a _thump_. "Once it has been studied, Blue Lion will be put back together as per the Emperor's orders. He does not want Blue Lion to be permanently harmed either."

Raible imagined several reasons why the heterogeneous hybrid would want Blue Lion intact and functional, none of them were good.

...

Kurogane yawned loudly and reached for another cup of what passed for 'coffee' on Heracles. Kogane had insisted that the Galran ship Amue had brought not be studied at the castle's own shipyard. He had feared that the ship might have been equipped with some variety of booby-traps for any possible enemies that tried to study it (basically them), so it had been moved to its present location at the Antigone Shipyard that was. And just because the Golion Chief didn't think that was security enough, he had also decided that one of them ('them' being the four original Lion pilots) be on watch at the shipyards at all time. This shift was 'Red Shift', Kurogane's watch as he piloted Red Lion. (Though it was also an amusing astrophysics joke that only Shorty seemed to get and was very frustrated that the others didn't find it amusing.)

This paranoia of Kogane's was getting annoying. Kurogane understood why he was acting so... _crazy_ for lack of a better word, but understanding and being okay with it were two very different things. The Black Lion pilot and Golion Chief was in love with Princess Fala, madly, deeply, truly and all that other feel-good-fairy-tale crap. It was torture for him to think of her trapped on planet Galra in the clutches of the vile and lecherous Sincline. He wanted to rescue her, but he also knew that they couldn't just go bursting in guns blazing without a plan. He was a leader and a leader maintained a level head even in times of great strain and he _was _under great strain. If something went wrong with the ship they wouldn't be getting a new one any time soon and it would be even longer before Fala was liberated from her captivity and servitude.

The Red Lion pilot leaned back in his chair and watched the Heraclesian technicians bustle around the alien ship. Sipping his coffee, he wondered where they got all their energy. But then again, they were scientists, they were always awake when there was something interesting to be studied. He stifled another yawn and checked his wrist chrono-meter. Red Shift was drawing to a close and soon Green Shift would begin. Knowing Shorty, he'd probably throw himself into the fray of techs and scientists studying the Galran ship, that was sort of his thing. Kurogane liked simpler things, simpler tasks and simpler hobbies. He wasn't made for science and learning, he wasn't really made for all this war and fighting either, he was a Space Pilot, an explorer he lined to expand the edges of maps and meet new life and new civilizations and to tentatively go where no man has gone before. He had never expected to use any of the combat training they'd taught them back at the Academy.

But then Galra attacked. (Attacked Earth that is, Altea had not yet been discovered by the Earth's exploration division.) The next thing Kurogane knew every capable pilot was called to fight the invading alien force. It was the most harrowing and arduous battle in the history of the planet, it had also been the shortest. Earth just hadn't been prepared for an attack from a hostile alien army with superior technology and an apparent lack of respect for any and all life. Those that hadn't been killed in the battle were made slaves, Kurogane, Shorty, Seido, Shirogane, his little brother Ryou and Kogane were all captured by the same slave-ship. That was the last time the Red Lion pilot had ever seen his home planet of Earth.

His thoughts strayed to his distant home, war ravaged and torn. He wondered if anyone still lived there or if they had all been captured and taken to Galra as slaves. He knew the entire planet could not have been taken after that one battle, the Galran squads just hadn't had enough ships with them at the time. But if the Empire was anything, it was persistent. If Daibazaal (and now Sincline) really wanted to transfer the entire Earth's population to Galra, Kurogane was sure they could. Kogane had probably come to the same conclusion as well, that was probably why they had never returned to Earth after finding Golion. They had freed Jara, Mura, Sand Planet, Amazone and a host of other planets from Galran control, but never once did they try to liberate Earth. Kogane probably thought that the best way to help their home was to defeat the Empire once and for all. Chipping away at it one planet at a time as they had been doing with Jara, Mura, and all that others as they had been doing just wasn't practical.

Kogane seemed made for war. He was a natural born leader, calm in the face of almost certain death, calculating enough to exploit opportunities and enemy weaknesses but still empathetic enough to not become a monster. All this waiting was probably killing him. The calculating leader side of him knew that it was a necessary delay, that they couldn't do anything until they found a way to penetrate the energy barrier surrounding the planet. But his sensitive side, the side of him that was madly in love with the Princess was probably being driven insane. Kurogane couldn't imagine how the Black Lion pilot must be tearing himself up inside over his dilemma.

However, the Red Lion pilot's musing were abruptly cut short when a pair small hands covered his eyes and a young-sounding male voice exclaimed, "Guess who?"

"Shorty!" Kurogane leapt from his seat, pulling free from the Green Lion pilot's easy grip. "God, don't pull shit like that. You startled me!"

The diminutive Space Pilot turned hero shrugged. "Sorry. I just can't help my mad ninja skills some times. Maybe you should drink less coffee."

"T'ch, this isn't coffee." The Red Lion pilot scoffed and to emphasize his point pored the weak brown water out into a waste can adjacent to the coffee station, the disposable cup from which he had been drinking soon followed after being crumpled into a crinkled ball first.

...

(A/N: The "blood eagle" is a real medieval torture from Nordic literature. "Redshift" is (basically) light's equivalent to the Doppler effect. )


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment. Also, I don't own the original Gundam 0079 theme song. That belongs to its original composer and also the magical voices of Kushida Akira , Mizuki Ichiro, Sasaki Isao, and Kageyama Hironobu.

The Sindariin

Chapter Fourteen:

"Gah! Ugh!" Amue grunted as she was slammed against the console of Yellow Lion's cockpit. Since she could not train on Blue Lion the boys had decided that having her practice piloting on Yellow Lion was the next best thing. If she couldn't pilot one foot why not try the other? But piloting a mechanized Lion robot was a heck of allot different than piloting a stolen Galran freighter or slave ship and the Heraclesian princess was having a tad more trouble with it than she had expected. How in the world had Fala managed to master the thing?

"Get up." Kogane's voice growled over her intercom and she snarled at the receiver.

Learning to command a Lion was difficult enough without his domineering and aggressive pushing. There was a fine line between being a motivational commander with high expectations for his subordinates and just an overbearing ass. Kogane had found and was riding that line with her and Amue was getting very tired of it. She wanted to rescue her cousin and get her revenge on Sincline just as much as he did but the Earth-born Golion Team Chief's attitude was becoming detrimental to her pilot training.

Yellow Lion climbed back to its four feet and the princess' voice called over the air-waves, "I'm up, I'm up!"

No sooner had she said this, however, than Black Lion pinned the sunshine-yellow cat back down with one large mechanized paw on its head and another on its side. "Not fast enough!" Kogane shouted. "If I was a beastman you'd be dead right now!"

In retaliation Yellow Lion's tail whipped across Black Lion's snout scratching it's perfectly polished metallic sheen and throwing the Lion off balance just enough for Amue to wriggle her practice Lion out from under him. Once again standing on all fours the battle-princess piloted the mech away from her commander, putting a little distance between the two of them before turning to launch a barrage of gatling missiles at him. Black Lion dodged them with ease and retaliated with an attack of his own.

Amue dodged Kogane's attack, leaping over the cloud of debris kicked up by his attack, Yellow Lion rushed her foe. Black Lion batted the on-coming claws aside and bit into Yellow Lion's neck. Amue's Lion thrashed in Kogane's vice-like jaw in a vain attempt to free herself and continue the session. She swatted at his underbelly with her claws but it had little effect on the larger Lion.

"Power down." Kogane ordered." His command, however, went ignored as Yellow Lion continued to struggle and thrash in Black Lion's tightly locked jaw. "Damn it, princess, stop struggling and power down! We're done for today."

Following his own orders, the Golion Team Chief released Yellow Lion and backed away. Black Lion assumed a sitting position and powered down. The hatch atop the cat's head was popped open and the commander climbed out. Standing atop Black Lion's head with his arms crossed he scrutinized Yellow Lion, glaring at it while waiting for Princess Amue to do the same. Yellow Lion walked up to sit beside Black Lion, the two cat's heads almost touching. Yellow Lion's hatch opened and the Heraclesian princess climbed out. She climbed from Yellow's head onto Black's to confront the Chief.

"You're an ass!" She snapped. "You're a pushy, overbearing, insensitive _ass_!"

Kogane remained unmoving while she delivered her somewhat two-demintional assessment of his character, his expression partially concealed by his white and red helmet. "Anything else?"

Amue growled between her teeth but said nothing more.

"Okay then. Take Seidou's Lion back to the castle's hangar. You've got the afternoon off, we'll continue tomorrow."

The princess did not jump to follow his commands. "Its not Seidou's Lion." She growled.

"What?"

"Its not Seidou's Lion." She repeated. "Yellow Lion and _all_ the Lions belong to Fala, not the men who pilot them."

"Fine. Take Fala's Lion that Seidou pilots back to the castle's hangar. We'll continue your training tomorrow."

...

With a grunt of frustration the Empress switched off the display. She had spent the past four days pouring over maps of Demon Castle and still hadn't found a way out. At least, not a way out that would actually allow for escape. Fala didn't thin she'd get very far just strolling out the front gate (although, she did find the idea amusing). But she could not locate a single secret passage or hidden tunnel or anything that wouldn't be highly traveled by slaves or castle personnel that she could escape from.

Disappointed and displeased the Altean-born Galran Empress pushed her seat back from the library table and stood, stretching. Her menstruation had drawn to a close the previous night and her time was up. If she didn't find a way out of the castle before she retired this evening, before Sincline summoned her to his chambers... she didn't want to think about what would happen if she couldn't escape and instead stormed from the castle's pubic library, her guards falling into formation around her in dutiful silence.

Remembering their presence the Empress paused. She turned to that guard closest to her and demanded the woman call for her Captain. Fala didn't know if any of her other guards spoke her language but she had already formed an acquaintance (of sorts) with the Captain and, to a small extent (very small) trusted her. She instructed the guard to have the Captain meet her in the sitting room of her private chambers and the Captain was already waiting by the door for her when Fala returned to the residential floor of the castle.

"You summoned me, You Majesty." The Captain bowed respectfully before opening the chamber door and stepping aside for Fala to pass.

The Empress took up the same seat she had had during their last little 'heart-to-heart' while the Captain this time sat in an over-stuffed arm chair across from her.

"Yes, Captain, I did." Not sure how to go about pumping the Galran woman for information Fala asked something that, while not pertinent, had been a general curiosity of hers. "What exactly is your job?"

"To guard you, Your Majesty." The Captain answered dutifully.

The Empress pursed her lips. That was an honest answer, but 'guard' did have a rather ambiguous meaning. Prisoners were 'guarded' to prevent them from escaping while dignitaries were 'guarded' to protect their safety. It was the Captain's job to keep her imprisoned within the castle as much as it was her job to protect Fala's life. "And what does 'guarding' me entail?"

"I'm to make sure no harm befalls your person, Your Majesty. I'm also to intercept any intrigues or defuse any possible scandals before they occur."

"What if we're attacked?"

"My team and I will defend you, obviously."

"And if the castle is taken...?" Fala trailed off not sure how to finish the question and not sure if asking such things would rouse suspicion.

If the Captain detected her motives in asking she did not show it, her expression remained the same as it was when the conversation first began as she answered. "The I am to personally escort you to safety, Your Majesty."

"How?"

Here the corners of the Captain's lips curled upwards in what Fala assumed was supposed to be an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I've been given strict instruction not to give you that information. His Eminence is under the impression that you might leave him." Here the woman's smile changed from apologetic to knowing before her expression returned to the stoic business-like mask she usually wore. "Of course that's just paranoia on his part, I'm sure. Men can be so needy sometimes, don't you agree?"

"Yes... needy..." The Empress echoed hesitantly.

"Is there anything else you require, Your Majesty?" The Captain asked.

"I..." Fala paused. Just looking at maps wasn't going to help her get out, she need to actually know a thing or two about the castle and its surrounding landscape, as it was she knew nothing. She was deplorably clueless and needed a way of becoming informed. She was rather confident in her guess that no one in the whole blasted Empire would actually_ tell_ her anything close to what she needed to know. That left her the option of eavesdropping to glean little facts and tid-bits from side conversations in the halls. But she didn't know the language... "Yes, Captain, there is something else you can help me with."

"Name it, Your Majesty."

"I've been Empress of the Galra Empire for almost two weeks now and I still can't speak the native language." She answered, flashing what she hoped was an apologetic smile of her own. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to teach me."

The Captain paused, as if unsure of how to respond. Fala was pretty sure that tutoring wasn't in her job description. But at the same time, it was a request from her Empress and within the Galra Empire a 'request' was basically the same thing as a command only slightly more polite and with less threat of bodily injury. Finally, after a prolonged pause the Captain said, "Academia has never been one of my strong suits, but... I would be honored to teach you my language, You Majesty. And perhaps a bit more of our culture as well...?"

"Um, yes. That too." The Empress nodded. "Lets begin right away!"

"Uh... Perhaps Your Majesty would be kind enough to allow me some time to prepare some sort of lesson plan?" The Captain asked awkwardly. "As I said, academia is not one of my strong suits and I've never taught anyone but my daughters before and that was only basic combat training, nothing academic in nature."

"Oh." Fala was crestfallen. Of course her Guard Captain wouldn't be prepared to teach her anything. "Yes, tomorrow then."

Now with her new assignment, the Captain stood to leave. "I shall be ready by tomorrow, Your Majesty." A polite bow. "Shall we meet in the library at tenth hour tomorrow?"

"No, lets do it here!" The Empress quickly breathed. It would just throw a wrench into her plans if the entire castle knew she as learning their language. People might start censoring their conversations around her so she wouldn't be able to eavesdrop. All her effort would then be wasted! "I want to keep this a secret until I've master it. I, uh... I want it to be a surprise for Sincline."

The corner of the Captain's eye twitched slightly, the Galran version of raising one eyebrow. "Very well, Your Majesty, our lessons will not appear in my daily reports."

Fala breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Captain. Uh, there is one more thing..."

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"What's your name? If we're going to be spending so much time together I can't very well keep calling you by your job-title now can I."

"There is nothing wrong with calling me 'Captain', Your Magesty. I worked very hard to get where I am today. But, my name is Nera, Nera _ni Teglin_."

"Nera..." Fala tested the alien name deciding that it wasn't all that terrible. Short and easy to pronounce, hard to mangle and easy to remember. "Thank you, Nera. I'll see you tomorrow."

Captain Nera bowed again before exiting the suit.

...

It was late evening back on Heracles and Black Shift, Kogane's watch on the Galran freighter, was just beginning. He ignored the coffee service that had been set-up beside his seat and watched Shorty and a group of techs hunched over a technical readout of the ship and conversing in hushed tones. He glared at the back of his comrade's lime green jumpsuit as if doing so would make him magically figure the machine out any sooner. Every day they spent putzing around with that machine was one more day that left Fala at Sincline's mercy. Kogane unconsciously lifted one hand to stroke the chain on which he had strung Blue Lion's key. He had taken to wearing the talisman around his neck, both as a way of keeping it safe and to keep Fala close to his heart.

_'Fala... I hope you're safe...'_

"Hey, pal, why so serious?"

"Huh?" The Black Lion pilot turned to see that Kurogane had taken a seat on the floor beside him without his notice.

"I'm supposed to be the 'Moody' one, remember?" Kurogane gave him an ironic grin. "Recently, it seems you've trying to steal my nickname. What's up with that? Not cool, dude. Why, I could sue you for trademark infringement."

"What do ya want, Moody? I'm on guard duty." The Chief growled, not at all amused by his friend's wise-cracking sense of humor.

"Mm, yes, I can see that." The Red Lion pilot stretched out on the cold metal plated floor beside Kogane's chair. "I can also see that you haven't sleeping well too. Not a good habit for someone pulling guard duty."

And it was true. The Golion Team Chief hadn't been sleeping well at all. In fact, he had been making himself sick with worry over what might be happening to Fala at that very moment while he was stuck here unable to help her. He would wake up at odd hours of the night in a panic thinking he'd lost Blue Lion's key only to find it sitting on his bedside table exactly where he'd left it before going to bed. When he did sleep it was sporadic and fitful. His dreams were plagued by visions of Sincline and all the possible cruelties he could inflict upon the innocent young princess of Altea.

"I'm fine." He lied. "I've got everything under control."

"Yeah, about that... Ever think that just maybe that might become a problem?"

Kogane stared agape at his friend. "How can being in control ever be a bad thing?"

"Don't ya think you're being just a little over controlling?" Kurogane shot back. "Over controlling and paranoid. Look, I get it. You're the team leader, you think its all your responsibility, you wanna rescue the princess and you know we're really only gonna get one real shot at it, dude... you're making yourself crazy and you're making everyone else around you crazy to. And I am not above dragging you away from your post to beat some sense back into you behind the radiator sheds if that's what it takes."

"I'm fine, Moody." The Chief insisted. "Your concern is appreciated, but not necessary."

"You're not fine." The Red Lion pilot insisted. He rose from his reclining position and walked over to the coffee service and filled a disposable cup half-way. "But, since I'm none to keen on the idea of slugging it out behind the radiator sheds -my face is just to pretty to risk messing it up- I came prepared with another remedy for you. Observe! Nothing up here..." Kurogane rolled up the right sleeve of his jacket. "Nothing up here..." He rolled up the left sleeve of his jacket. "And nothing up here." He tapped the side of his head hoping to get at least a small chuckle from his friend but Kogane's expression remained skeptical. "But... what have I here...?"

The Red Lion pilot reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a small metal flask. This he opened and poured its contents into the already half-full cup of coffee which he then offered to the Chief.

"I'm on guard duty." The Black Lion pilot reminded him.

"And I'm on stick-from-ass-removal duty. Now drink up." Kurogane pressed the cup into Kogane's hands. "I'll be here the whole time to make sure you don't start singing the Gundam theme with your underwear on your head like we did back at the Academy. Remember that? We had just completed our final year and got our first assignments as real Space Pilots, that was some celebration!"

The Black Lion pilot's face turned an impressive shade of red at the reminder of his drunken Gundam karaoke with his own undergarments on his head. It had probably been the single most embarrassing moment of his adult life. But wait... "I thought you said you didn't remember that party! You lying bastard!"

"Memory's a funny thing..." The Red Lion pilot gave his friend an evil grin, glad that he was momentarily distracted from his worries. "Ya know, its been years since I've heard that song, how did it go again...?"

"Don't you dare!" Kogane leapt to his feet.

Kurogane retreated a few paces away from his Chief and began to sing. "Bou e ata re, ou e ata re..."

"Don't! Stop that!" The Black Lion pilot lunged at his friend, spilling the alcohol laced coffee over the floor in his attempt to reach Kurogane and shut him up. The Red Lion pilot, however, continued to evade him, staying just out of arms reach but still close enough to taunt him like an arse.

"What was that, Chief? 'Don't stop that'? Okay." Another evil grin passed over his lips. "Kidou... senshi, Gundamu! Gundamu!"

By this point Shorty and the group of techs he'd been working with had taken notice of the other two pilots' antics and where watching with mingled expressions of confusion and amusement. (Except for Shorty, whom was just amused. He had also been at that particular party.)

"Ya know, one thing that's always confused be about that night..." Kurogane began while continuing to evade his friend and commanding officer. "... how did you manage to get your trunks off without taking off your pants? That takes some real skill there, that does."

Kogane gritted his teeth and charged the Red Lion pilot, tackling him around the mid-section and the two of the went tumbling to the ground to land in a heap. The Black Lion pilot pinned his friend to the ground, one hand over Kurogane's mouth in an effort to silence him. That is, his hand was over his mouth until the moody pilot licked Kogane's palm.

"Ew!" The Golion Chief wiped his slobbery hand on his pants leg and glared down at his friend.

"Nice to see you're relaxed enough to be grossed out." Moody smiled back up at him. "Now can you let me up? We lay like this any longer and people might start to think this is a slash-fic."

...

Fala examined the segment wall that she knew slid out of place to form a secret door between her bedroom and Sincline's. The door had not been marked on any of the castle maps she had studied, so it was safe to assume that none of the secret passages the castle might have would have been marked on the maps. The only way to find any of them would be to already know where they are. Tough luck. But maybe if she studied her own secret door the Empress might be able to recognize some sort of indicator that could help her find other hidden doors or passages in the castle. And so she scrutinized her segment of wall looking for anything that might hint at the hidden door.

Her eyes saw no seem where the door slide away from the main wall and she ran her hand over the intricately patterned and delicately textured wall paper thinking she might be able to feel it with her fingers instead. No luck. It felt just like a wall, solid and unmoving. Fala sighed and pulled the empty wall scone that was the lever that activated the door and watched closely as the paper covering it changed color and the door slid out of the way. She glimpsed a dark wood chair with dark blue seat cushion in Sincline's room on the other side, one of his black and gold tunics was laying over its back, casual and care-free.

She pushed the scone back into its place and the door returned to its normal position in the wall, the wallpaper covering it changing back to its normal color. Fala sighed and rested her forehead against the wall-door. Maybe it would look different from Sincline's side...?

She pulled the scone again and stepped through the door... and froze in her tracks. None other than Sincline himself stood before her, his tunic off, his under shirt half unbuttoned, barefooted with no gloves and looking very confused. "Fala...?"

Fala didn't say anything. She turned right back around meaning to bolt back through the still open door and back to her own room. This had been a _terrible_ idea! She didn't make it through the door, Sincline moved at the exact same time she had and moved faster. The secret door slammed shut before she could step a single toe through it. Once again, the Empress now found herself trapped in Sincline's quarters. She turned around, her back pressed against the wall and stared up at her husband.

He placed his hands on the wall, boxing her in and leaned down as if for a kiss but instead inhaled deeply. "You're no longer menstruating."

Fala shuddered at the idea that he could know that simply from smelling her and she trembled slightly. The Empress was not looking forward to what she know her husband planned to do next.

"Come away from the door, darling, and make yourself more comfortable."

He head her by the hand over to the bed when she sat almost mechanically. Fala expected him to push her down, crawl on top of her and tear at her clothing to take what he wanted from her body. But he didn't. Instead, Sincline resumed what he had been doing prior to her barging in through the hidden door -undressing.

"I must say, I never would have thought you'd be the one to come and seek me out." He was saying as his nimble azure hands quickly unfastened the remaining buttons of the simple shirt he liked to wear under his tunics. The garment was cast aside to join his tunic on the chair and the Emperor then began unlacing his trowsers. "I must confess, the first time the door opened I feared it might be an assassin already finished with you and coming to murder me. I really must see about getting thumb-print locks put on that door."

"No, don't to that!" Fala suddenly exclaimed. If he was going to put a lock on that secret door, what other hidden doors and passages would he be locking? If they all ended being locked how would she ever get out? What even be the point in trying to find them?

Sincline smiled at her as he pealed the dark material of his pants from his muscular legs. "Of course, a lock of any sort would take some of the spontaneity out of our trysts." Wearing only his underwear now, the Emperor stalked towards the bed. Fala backed up further on to onto the mattress and crab-walked to the other side in an attempt to get away from him, almost falling on her head when her hand slipped off the edge. She was caught by her husband before she could actually fall, however. "I'm so happy you came to me tonight." He whispered. "I must remember to thank the goddess Aradianya."

He lowered his lips on to hers in one of his uncharacteristically gentle kisses. He leaned back, bringing them both up to a sitting position on the bed while deepening his kiss to the more demanding and aggressive type she had come to associate with him while his hands fiddled with the lacing of her dress. Fala gasped when the bodice loosened from around her midsection and her husband took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth.

She struggled out of his grasp, nearly toppling off the bed a second time. "Please, can we not have sex tonight?"

"Why?" Sincline once again pulled her toward him, slipping the fabric of her dress off her delicate round shoulders revealing the bite mark he's made there. During the week's reprieve her period had given her, the gashes on Fala's back had completely healed. His _velhil _on her shoulder on the other hand had not. It had healed a good deal without him constantly ripping it open again and again every night, but the wound had been to severe for just five days amnesty to heal fully. He ignored the bite mark for the moment, however, and instead trailed butterfly kisses down her neck and across her collar bone.

"Because..." Fala continued to struggle in his embrace. She couldn't very well tell him she didn't want to sleep with him anymore because she was terrified of becoming pregnant. Getting pregnant was sort of an Empress' job. She couldn't say it was because she hated him and each time he'd been inside her already was awful, the sort of thing nightmares were made of. She supposed she could lie and say she was feeling ill, but then if he could tell she was no longer menstruating from her scent alone he might be able to catch her in the lie as well.

"Because...?" He teased, one hand drifted downward to lift her skirts up, bunching her dress up around her mid section. Sincline pressed his erection, still contained behind that fabric of his undergarments, between her legs.

"Please stop." The Empress pleaded already knowing it would have no effect. He never honored her requests to 'stop' or 'wait', and 'please'...! Ha! 'Please' wasn't even in his vocabulary.

"No." Sincline whispered and her bloomers were ripped open by his sharp claws while his other than worked furiously to unlace her corset an free her sumptuous round breasts.

"Pregnant!" She shouted.

Sincline froze. "What? But you_ just_ had your period..."

Fala scuttled out of his arms and attempted to cover herself. "I'm not pregnant. That's not what I meant to say." Now what was she going to do? She had to play this off somehow lest he become angry with her again. How much of an insult would he take it as to find out that the idea of becoming pregnant with his offspring was more horrible to her than any other injustice that can be committed by one being against another. But she had to explain her outburst somehow... "What I mean is we're still newly weds. We're still getting used to each other. Its far to soon for us to conceive a child but that's what'll happen if we continue to sleep together like this."

"Oh." He chuckled. Sincline actually chuckled at her. "Is that all."

"That seems like allot to me." She whispered back.

"Ah, Fala, my dearest..." Her husband sighed. "Pregnancy is the least likely thing that could happen between us."

"What?" She blinked.

He flashed her a toothy grin offering an impressive view of his fangs. "I'm a half-breed, I'm sterile, darling. I can't have children."

"What?" She repeated. "How do you know?"

"Consider this: in all the years I've been having sex, and all the women I've slept with... not a one of them has ever gotten pregnant. _Not one_." Sincline closed the distance between them and pushed her dress back down from her shoulders. Reaching his arms around her he resumed unlacing her corset. "It would take an act of the _gods_ for me to get you pregnant, my dearest. So don't worry."

The corset gave way and the Emperor slid it down her body, pulling the dress Fala wore over it off at the same time. She lay on the bed beneath him now clad only in her torn bloomers and he lowered his lips to the bite on her shoulder. The Empress covered the wound with her hand before his mouth could graze it.

"I know what this means now." She said in a soft but even voice. "I know what _vel_ is, more or less, and I know that this is your _velhil_."

"Wonderful!" And a grin of true pleasure spread over his beautiful alien features before Sincline once again lowered his face to his _ardan_'s shoulder. But to the Emperor's great annoyance she did not remove her hand from over the mark.

"I know what this means and I don't want you to do it anymore."

That smile of pleasure he'd been wearing previously vanished in an instant and was replaced by a placid and blank mask that hid all indication of his thoughts from his features. "And why is that?"

"Because we are not _ardan_." Fala answered plainly. "You may think you're 'passionately devoted' to me or whatever but that's just you. I do _not_ feel any sort of _arda_ for you in return and I don't want you sucking my blood. _I_ don't want to suck_ your _blood either."

His face remained the bland and stoic unreadable mask as he stood from the bed and began pacing the room.

Unsure of how to react to this more subdued reaction from him Fala continued. "I'm sorry if this upsets you. But I just don't feel the same way about you as you do for me."

He snorted derisively. "And so you don't want to be my _ardan_."

Fala shook her head in a silent 'no'. Sincline was much calmer than she had expected him to be. Was this all it would have taken to get him to louse interest in her? Just to tell him that she didn't want to be his _ardan_ knowing what that meant?

"Well, that's just... _fine_." Her husband growled before storming from the room.

The Empress blinked in abject shock, that was the least likely thing she'd have expected him to do. So uncharacteristic were his actions that she sat frozen on the bed asking herself if that had really just happened. If she were smarter, Fala would have taken the opportunity his absence offered to both from his room and back to the safety of her own bedroom. Unfortunately for the Altean-born Galran Empress her loving husband returned before she had the chance to.

Sincline stood framed in the doorway that separated the bedroom from the sitting room clad in nothing but his undergarments and holding long black rope cord. "That's just fine."

"What's that for!" Fala gasped.

He didn't answer, her husband silently stalking towards the bed with a malicious leer upon his alien features. "Its fine if you don't want to be my _ardan_." Sincline whispered almost lovingly when he reached her. "I had hoped you would appreciate the elevated status it gave you; more than just being a mere wife. But if you don't want it that just... fine..."

He took both her delicate hands in one of his and coiled the rope around them slowly, as if wrapping a precious package with love and care.

"What are you..."

"I have a whole Collection of whores who hate me down stairs. What's one more?"

"No!" Fala gasped. "What are you planning! Stop it!"

She began to struggle furiously against his vice-like grip but he refused to give and only pulled the rope tighter around her wrists.

"You're only making this harder on yourself." Sincline whispered as if soothing a distraught loved one. The other end of the rope he tied to the headboard of the bed in a tight knot that he was sure she wouldn't be able to untangle. Sure that she wasn't going anywhere now once again disappeared in to the sitting and shortly returned with an empty glass and an open bottle of champaign, the same bottle they had drank on their wedding night. He walked to the bedside table and withdrew from the top drawer a small glass jar filled with a fine pink powder. Sincline measured out two spoonfuls of this powder into the empty glass before poring the champaign in over it. This he swirled around until the powder had completely dissolved before holding it out to Fala. "Drink this."

"You drink it." His lovely blushing bride snarled in abject loathing.

He smiled in malicious amusement but did not say anything in response. Instead her loving husband grabbed her nose, forcing her to open her mouth to gasp for breath. The moment her lips parter he pressed the glass to her open mouth and dipped its contents down her throat. Fala gaged, spitting half of it on the bed before Sincline had to hold her mouth shut forcing her to swallow.

"Naughty girl." He crooned and fixed a second glass. "Now lets try again without spilling."

Her mouth was once again forced open and the concoction pored down her throat. This time she drank it all with little protest, not wanting him to repeat the process a third time. She wasn't sure what it was he was giving her but she sure it wouldn't kill her. Of all things he wanted her to do or be for him, 'dead' was not one of them.

"There now..."

"What was that!" She demanded.

"The same thing I gave you on our wedding night." Sincline replied with an evil grin on his deceptively beautiful face. "Just a stronger dose."

"What will a stronger dose of that relaxant do to me?"

"It will not harm you, if that's what you're worried about." He replied and ripped her already torn bloomers the rest of the way off. Fala now lay completely naked tied to his bed and glaring up at him breathless. "But I lied to you that night. It wasn't a 'relaxant', its an aphrodisiac."

Sincline grabbed the book from his bedside table and moved as if to once again leave the room, pausing at the door that separated the bedroom from his sitting room. "You should start to feel it in a few minuets. But I won't be coming to relive you. I've no obligation to satisfy whores who don't give a damn about me."

And with that the door slammed shut behind him.

...


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Fifteen:

Fala tugged on her bindings and glared daggers at the closed door. He wouldn't just leave her here... would he? No. He was to much of a sex-obsessed neurotic to dose her with a strong aphrodisiac and just walk away! He would be back, he would untie her and... and have his fun. But then he'd be done and she could go back to her room. Right?

...

Sincline pored himself a large glass of _yarbara_, the blood-wind, drinking it down without a pause for breath. He pored himself a second glass and drank that one as well but as he moved to pore a third his hand stopped, glancing between the bottle and the glass. Sincline replaced the dirty glass in its cabinet and sat down with the bottle instead. The Emperor flopped down on his sitting room sofa next to his book, which he promptly ignored.

He just didn't understand Fala at all. Why couldn't she just accept his dominance and submit to him? Why did everything have to turn into a power-struggle between them? From a simple conversation to sex. It seemed like he was never allowed to be 'right' and she always had to have the last word. It was always 'stop', 'don't', 'no', 'please'. Never 'come on', 'yes', 'that', 'mm'. He wanted her enjoy time spent with him but she wasn't even trying! She refused to see beyond what he had been under his father's rule, she refused to see him as anything more than the invading tyrant that had threatened her people and planet for so long. He certainly didn't see her as the princess of a rebel nation, he looked past the roles that fate had dealt them to see the witty, strong and yet delicate woman she was. Couldn't she be bothered to do the same for him? After all, they were sort of married.

But there really wasn't much he could do about it. If Fala was determined to forever hate him then she would forever hate him no matter what he did, or said, or tried, or didn't, didn't say or try. If she was so resolved to loath him for the rest of their lives together then he might as well try and have what little fun he could have with her. The heterogeneous hybrid almost wanted to rush back into the bedroom and take advantage of the strong aphrodisiac he had dosed her with but he didn't. At the moment he wanted to punish her more than he wanted to sheath himself in her. And so instead he sat alone in his sitting room in self-loathing silence.

Sincline pulled his book to him and opened it to his powerder-blue bookmark. After reading the same line three times, however, he decided that any attempts to read were futile, he just couldn't concentrate. Turning his head, the Emperor cast a forlorn glance at the closed bedroom door and wondered how Fala was doing. If the aphrodisiac had begun to affect her yet, how aroused she was, if she wanted him... Oh, how he wished she wanted him! Her being madly aroused didn't amount to much if she still rejected him. He wanted her so much... his feelings so strong that some times his chest physically _hurt_ when she rejected him. When she had confessed her aversion to being his _ardan_ even knowing what such a bond was... For a moment Sincline had wondered if he were going into a cardiac arrest. Of course he hadn't been. That would be ridiculous! But there was nothing else he could think of to explain the pain he felt after her ardent and firm rejection.

_'We are not _ardan_.'_

Her words echoed through his mind and the distraught despot felt another metaphorical dagger stab at his core. Was he really so repulsive to her? Did the idea of her meaning so very much to him really repel her so? Would it truly be so terrible for her to open her mind to the idea of being his _willingly_? Of opening her heart and letting him in as he had already let her into his own heart? Apparently, it was to much to ask. Apparently, she did find him repulsive. Apparently, his feelings for her were repellant. Apparently, it would be terrible for her to open for him willingly.

Sincline turned back away from the bedroom door and took a long gulping swig from the _yarbara_ bottle.

Fine. That was all just _fine_! He didn't need his women to like him. He didn't need his women to find him attractive. He didn't need his women be willing. All they needed to do was know and remember their place! If Fala didn't want to be his lover and mate, his companion, his partner, his _ardan_ then fine. He would teach her her proper place then. If she wasn't going to sit by his side, then she would kneel at his feet! On her knees... in front of his lap... with her face on his cock like the bitch she was choosing to be. He had been willing to share everything with her, his power, his kingdom, his throne... Sincline would have laid the galaxy at her feet! But she rejected all he had to offer time and again and now she had rejected_ him_. The young Emperor had never been one to take rejection well but thus far he thought that he'd displayed remarkable patience with his stubborn and obstinate wife. But now it was time to just give up.

The ideas of divorce or annulment had crossed his mind but those both felt to much like a defeat. He would not turn her louse, no. She didn't deserve the freedom to return to her beloved home-world. Besides, the moment she set foot back on Altea the rebellion in that sector would begin again and he could not risk a civil war, not when the other four Lions were still unaccounted for. He couldn't make her a proper slave, she was still his wife, his Empress and Empresses do _not_ become slaves. Doing so to her would cast a poor reflection on him. Besides, while she may be a spiteful little bitch, he still wanted to spare her the horrors of slavery, to spite all her continued rejections and assurances of her hatred for him he still cared for her. It was rather tragic in his opinion.

_'You're a weak pathetic fool!'_

His father's words echoed once again through his mind, this time in his own voice. "You just might be right, old man. I'm trapped. Trapped in a cage of my own making."

...

Fala rubbed her thighs together in a vain attempt to alleviate some of the throbbing need that pulsed between them. All she managed to achieve, however, was to smear her upper legs with the nectar of her own arousal. A bright pink blush covered the whole of her body and she felt feverish and hot. She glared up at her bound hands and gave the rope another futile yank. She hadn't expected anything by this point, she just had nothing better to do.

With effort the Empress rolled from the position of laying on her back and onto her knees facing the headboard to which she had been tethered. In her new position she tried to venture down with her hands to the needy throbbing area of her wanton torture but alas, her husband had not left her with a long enough leash and her hands could go no lower than her naval. Fala whimpered in frustration and tugged futilely against her bindings once more. Her whole body quaked with unwelcome desire for relief that only an unwanted man could give.

She though of his granite-hard cock, long and tick and textured with those odd bumps and ridges. Her core heated even more at the though of it (if such a thing were even possible!) and tiny droplets of sticky nectar trickled down her thighs to stain the bedspread in delicate wet dots. Her body ached for him to return and enter her while her mind screamed that it wanted nothing of the sort. She didn't want him! She didn't need him! It was the last thing she could ever want! He was vile! He was detestable! He was horrible, dreadful, abominable, atrocious, offensive, obnoxious, odious, unsavory, repulsive and loathsome!

But to spite all of that the delicate cleft between her thighs drooled at the idea of having him fill her.

Fala gave a wretched moan of strangled frustration and tried to rub up against the headboard instead. This, of course, she could not do either and her needy frustration only heightened. As loath as she was to admit it, as much as she hated him and detested the idea of allowing him to lay with her... the Empress began to realize that the only thing that could alleviate her pulsing wanton need was Sincline.

"Sincline!" And she shouted his name in hatred and rage, but somehow came out sounding deep, throaty and needy.

...

The afore mentioned Emperor whom was currently sitting despondent in his sitting room jumped to his feet at the sound of his name. He rushed to the door separating him from his wife but paused when his fingers touched the cold metal of the nob. He was not going to rush in at the slightest beck and call to satisfy her. There was a lesson to be learned here and he wanted to make sure she learned it. What kind of a weak-willed fool would he be if he folded every time she batted those pretty little eyelashes of hers and whispered his name? No, he would not go rushing in at his wife's call; he would remain firm, hold to his word. He would not return to relive Fala of her sexual need. Let the bitch suffer for a while, the gods knew she deserved it!

...

Calmer than she had been after her training session with Kogane but still annoyed with the overly demanding Golion Chief, Princess Amue entered hangar where the Galran ship she'd captured was being studied. The Chief was still on watch and she gave him a stiff but respectful nod of acknowledgment as she passed by his chair. And then she paused in slight confusion to see that he looked a tad bit scraped up. Had something happened? No, she would have heard about it long before arriving at the hangar. A message would have been sent to her brother back at the castle. Then she saw Kurogane and noticed that he looked far worse than the Black Lion pilot and assumed the two men had had a little tussle. She would not have been surprised if Kogane had beaten-up one of his own me, as aggressive as he'd been since Altea was taken, since Fala was taken...

Amue pushed the thought of her cousin aside for the moment. She knew very well what Fala was having to endure at this very moment, the Heraclesian princess had had her own taste of Sincline's 'affection'. But dwelling on it was not the way to rescue her distressed damsel of a cousin, no. She could dwell in her sympathies for Fala all she wanted, but that wouldn't save her, _action_ would! That was why she had come to check on the progress Shorty and his team of techs had made on the freighter. The sooner they figured out how to penetrate the barrier that surrounded planet Galra the sooner she could -_they_ could rescue Fala.

She osmosed into the group of people that were leaning over a large paper-print schematic of the ship. She recognized it as the same one from the ship's databanks that she had briefly studied during the short skirmish when she had first stolen the ship. A number of the Galran labels had been crossed out with their translations written next to them in plain but messy script. They were still working on figuring out what everything was, they hadn't even started considering how it worked! This was taking forever! They'd never rescue Fala at this rate!

"Pathetic!" The Princess slammed her hand flat onto the table with a loud _smack_. She glared at the group of startled scientists, noticing that it was the Green Lion pilot, Shorty, that held the pencil. It was his messy hand-wrting on the schematic. "Give me that!"

She didn't bother to wait for the boyish hero to comply, instead plucking the writing implement from his small hand herself. She was no where near fluent in the Galran language, but she had spent enough time on their dreadful planet, immersed in their dreadful language to learn enough. She could both read and write enough Galran to at least finish translating the parts of a space ship. What she hadn't learned on Sincline's hand as his whore she had been tough after joining Ryou's rebel unit. Amue filled in the missing labels before throwing the pencil contemptuously onto the table where it bounced a couple of time before rolling onto the floor.

"Is this what you've all been doing this whole time!" She roared. "All this time, _wasted_! And why? Did none of you ever think to consult me? Have I not spent the most time on Galran than anyone in this room? Idiots! All of you, idiots!"

"We, uh, we didn't want to distract you from your Lion pilot training." Shorty admitted meekly.

The Heraclesian warrior-princes focused her furious gaze on the diminutive Green Lion pilot. "I've just done in two minuets what you couldn't do in three days. How is that a distraction?"

His cheeks colored in embarrassment and he instantly demurred.

Amue was going to say more. She was going to remind the naive little hero of Fala's suffering and that every minuet they delayed was one more minuet Fala was forced to cater to Sincline's depraved carnal demands. And she would have gone into detail about what those demands were likely to be as well. After all, she would know. But her tirade was cut off before the words could even begin to flow from her lips. The princess felt a strong male hand on her shoulder and that familiar stab of fear seized her.

"That's enoug-" Kogane's words were cut dramatically short when the Heraclesian princess suddenly grabbed the hand that touched her by the wrist and pulled his body into her just as her other arm impaled his ribs with her elbow. The surprised and suddenly winded Black Lion pilot was then flipped over the petite princess' head in a strait-line judo toss to land on his back on the table before her. "Ooff!"

Everyone stood in shocked silence.

"Kogane!" Amue gasped. "Don't... don't ever sneak up on me. And don't ever touch me without my permission! I don't... I don't like to be touched."

The Golion team Chief blinked at her in stunned surprise, then understanding sunk in and he climbed down from the table, a grave expression on his face. He knew what kind of man Sincline was and he knew that Amue had been his prisoner and slave for a time, but he had failed to realize the full implications of what that meant. The dastardly despot had left scars on the Heraclesian princess, not scars anyone could see but were there and were very real all the same. And if they didn't hurry the same thing would happen to Fala. The longer she was with Sincline the more damage he would do to her.

"Go back to the castle." He told her.

"I don't take orders from you!" The princess snarled back.

"Yes, you do." Kogane patiently shot back. "So long as you plan on piloting Blue Lion you will follow my orders to the letter. Go back to the castle, go to your room there, have a good cry or whatever you need. When you feel up to it I... I have questions for you."

The Black Lion pilot averted his eyes slightly as he said that last part. He wanted to ask her what Sincline had done to her, what he could be doing to Fala but he was also afraid to. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know...

...

Fala never did get the relief she so needed, but she had managed to exhaust herself to the point of collapse and was fast asleep when Sincline finally aloud himself to enter the bedroom once more. He padded across the bedroom floor with silent steps and stood at the bedside. Even in sleep she was lovely and the Emperor couldn't help but brush a strand of her sweat-matted hair behind her ear.

The air in the room was thick the scent of her arousal and he felt himself go ridged. She was asleep, still tied up and probably still wet, it would be easy for him to just slip inside her and take his pleasure. He wasn't obligated to offer her anything in return, she was not his _ardan_, by her own choice she had made herself just another plaything for his pleasure.

… But she wasn't just a plaything.

That was the problem. She could say whatever she wanted about him, what she thought of him, how he disgusted her, how she despised him. All sorts of nasty hurtful things. But none of that would change the fact that he felt strongly for her, feelings so strong and passionate that it could only be called _arda_. Hopeless as it seemed, she was still her _ardan_ even if she would not be his.

She was different than all the other women he'd had. Even her cousin Amue, whom resembled her so greatly, was a pale substitute compared to Fala.

With a heavy sigh Sincline untied his unconscious bride and carried her back to her own bedroom and layer her down atop her own frilly pink bedspread. Standing over her naked from the Emperor studied his sleeping beauty. He couldn't identify what it was exactly that set her apart. At first the frivolous warlord-prince had though it was simply her stunning beauty that caused other women to appear lack-luster and unexciting in his eyes. But Amue was just as beautiful as she was and even that Heraclesian bitch couldn't satisfy him. She wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Fala and no one else.

Of course, that didn't stop him from sleeping with other women. No. He was a man and he still had needs. He wasn't about to become a celibate, saving himself for the _one_ woman that it seemed destiny had chosen for him. Fuck that! He was a prince, now an Emperor; he was never short on bed partners.

But none of them were Fala.

As irritating as her constant opposition was, as often as she tried to fight him, as hurtful her words were… Sincline still would rather endure a frustrating naked banter with her than have a room full of slaves licking his cock. Maybe he had become a masochist, or maybe Fala had bewitched him in some way. He wasn't sure.

…

(A/N: Another short chapter is short. I just haven't felt like writing much lately. –sigh- I just wish I could have advanced the actual story more in this chapter. But whatever, character development is important too… right?)


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Sixteen:

It was somewhat annoying that the only communications terminal on the entire planet of Altea was the one within the control room. General Gibra had grown used to the luxury of making important calls from the comfort of his own office or stateroom. But on this rural backwater planet he could do neither. He supposed it was lucky they even had interplanetary communication at all! Altean technology was so paradoxical, they had a massive state-of-the-art battle fortress for a castle that had been proven to time and again be nearly invincible and yet there was only one interplanetary comm. system in the whole building. They had five quadruped giant robots capable of space travel and combat, yet the main mode of transportation on planet was a horse and cart. Strange indeed.

The General supposed the extreme variances in Altea technology stemmed from Golion. He had already suspected that the giant robot had not originally been Altean in origin and the Steward's story, while convoluted and boring, had more or less confirmed that suspicion. The castle and comm. system were probably developed from studying the Lion's technology, which was also most likely why said technology hadn't be made available to the public at large.

If a technologically primitive society like the Alteans could create a nearly impregnable fortress with the knowledge they gained from Golion, what would a technological power like Galra be able to accomplish? Gibra suppressed a sudden surge of giddiness. New weapons, new ships, new domestic innovations… and his name would be attached to it in the history tracks. Well, his name in conjunction with the Emperor Sincline _Hangalra_, of course.

Speaking of the young heterogeneous monarch… Gibra sat down in the control chair and dialed planet Galra then leaned back in the room's only chair to wait for the signal to cross the light-years of space between the two planets.

He had only just begun his first term at the Imperial Military Academy when rumor spread that Emperor Daibazaal had finally beget an heir. The hopes of countless scheming court jackals and military opportunists were dashed the moment the half-breed prince's birth was announced. Talk turned from who would succeed as Emperor to what the Empire might be like under the rule of a half-human son of a slave, or how such a crime against nature could even occur in the first place. But as a headstrong young Academy student, Gibra didn't care much about any of that at the time. Who cared what the Prince Imperial would be like as Emperor, that was the future, let future him deal with it. So what if such a crossbreed shouldn't be able to exist? Let the Occult-Scientists figure it out. That's what they were there for.

The General did not think of, nor hear of the young Prince Imperial for several years after that. In fact it wasn't until he had finally been promoted to a Captain and given command of his own slaver in the Space Fleet's Red Division that he heard mention of the Prince again. An Ensign on his bridge crew apparently had a younger brother whom was in the same class at the Academy as the Prince Imperial. The then Captain Gibra overheard him bragging to another officer about it during a shift change. He was older then and slightly more prone to considering the future and asked the Ensign for his brother's opinion of the Prince.

The man had just shrugged his shoulders and said that his brother actually seemed reluctant to talk about him. He had only said that the Prince kept to himself during rec-hours but that he excelled in all the courses he was required to take.

When he was a Major General, Gibra met the man in person. It was the first Imperial function he had been invited to as a guest rather than the attendant of a guest. He had seen the Prince from a far many times before that function but never before close up. He sat on an ornately carved wooden chair lacquered and painted in gold, it was slightly smaller than the Golden Throne in which his father was seated but looked no less decadent. The Prince Imperial himself, however, just looked board and slightly disgruntled surrounded by all his father's splendor and decadence.

At some point, Gibra wasn't quite sure when, the Prince descended from the dais to mingle with the nobility. (On the Emperor's behest, no doubt. Prince Imperial Sincline did not seem to enjoy socializing with the silver-tongued courtiers very much, or anyone else for that matter.) But it was at that time that Gibra's friend, Lieutenant General Sadak from the Black Army division, pulled him toward the young royal's group. The tone in the air changed the moment he and Sadak (politely) elbowed their way into the tight circle that had formed around the Prince. Sincline focusing his eyes on the newly arrived military men and ignoring the ass-kissing nobles that had latched onto him.

He greeted Sadak by rank and dismissed the rest of his satellites with a casual wave of his gloved hand. It was then that Gibra formally met Prince Imperial Sincline and the first time he saw the man up close –boy, rather, the first time he saw the boy up close. Sincline was still just a teen then, slowly growing into his manhood. He was already taller than the average human but still falling short of the average height for a Galran of the same age. He was starting to fill out with lean toned muscles but still retained just enough of a skinny teen physique to make him look gangly. His face was an off mix of Galran features and softer more alien human ones. The most unsettling of which were that he had no scales covering his ash-blue skin, long silvery-white hair, which he wore long and unbound cascading down his back and over his shoulders and tiny wisps of that same silvery-white hair on his chin and cheeks. Normal Galrans had no hair (anywhere, at all).

Gibra had stumbled his way through that conversation, not really knowing how he should behave around the Prince. If he was to formal he might think the Major General was just another ass-kissing social climber, if he was to casual and familiar the Prince might become offended. No matter what he had done, however, he must have done something right, because the next day Gibra receive a promotion to Lieutenant General of the Red Army.

This nostalgic little trip down memory lane, however, was cut short when the call finally connected and the view screen was filled with the image of a very annoyed looking Emperor Sincline _Hangalra_.

"Yes, what is- Oh, Gibra! Have you any news of the Lions?"

The General noted that His Eminence looked irritable and slightly rumpled as if he'd just rolled out of bed (which he probably had as he his gold house-robe was draped carelessly over his shoulders and left to hang open displaying the silver speckles of his thin chest hair). Gibra wondered if he had interrupted the Emperor while in the midst of bedding his Altean princess and immediately calculated how angry he would be if this were true. The General then weighed that figure against how useful he still was to the Emperor and decided that it would be best to call back another time.

"Ah, Your Eminence," he began, "if this is a bad time I could always-"

"Don't waste my time, General, I'm in a foul mood." The Emperor cut him off. "Do you have any news for me on the Lions?"

Well, if he hadn't interrupted the royal couple in the throws of _vel_ he might as well continue with what he had called for. "I've sent the first of the tech's assessment's of Blue Lion with the last supply shuttle. I've stamped the disk for your eyes only and you'll need a decrypt code to view it."

"I trust it's the same code you always use." Sincline gave lopsided smile. "Really, Gibra, you need more variety on your life."

"Yes, it's the same as always." The General confirmed while choosing to ignore the Emperor's second statement. He had a feeling it wasn't actually decrypt codes he was referring to. "There were some issues when we first began studying the Blue Lion and I'm sorry to say that they set us a little behind schedule."

"I trust you've taken care of it."

"For the most part, yes." The General answered and then when the Emperor raised one perfectly shaped white eyebrow he elaborated. "The men are adequately motivated, however the 'rough element' is still yet to be determined. The men seem to think… the men think the castle is haunted, sir."

To this the Emperor chuckled darkly. "Oh, and what do _you_ think?"

"I… I'm not sure." If Gibra were going to be completely honest with himself, he would have to admit that the Castle Gradam did seem… _haunted_. "For the men's sake I am maintaining that there is no ghost, but…"

Sincline's dark chuckle deepened and he grinned evilly at the older man. "And what if I told you that the castle was, indeed, haunted."

"Sir?"

"By the ghost of the late King Raimon, whom my father killed."

The General swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "What do you suggest I do, sir?"

"Fuck if I know. I'm an Emperor, not a priest of Nelifa." Sincline shrugged, invoking the name of the Galran goddess of life and death. "What of the other four Lions? The ones stolen by Kogane and his despicable Golion team."

"Ah. The spy satellite you ordered dispatched to Heracles has confirmed that the Lions are, indeed, there and that Prince Alor is providing them with maintenance and the pilots with asylum." Here Gibra paused, knowing how much the Emperor hated the Heraclesian princess and wondering how he might take this next bit of news. "Through the satellite we've also learned that one of our own ships has also landed on Heracles. One that had originally been assigned to the Slussvan Shipyard before the rebels' attack. It was piloted by a small crew of human women with Princess Amue as leader."

"Amue!" Sincline growled with venom practically spitting from the word. "She picked a hell of a time for a visit home. What's she planning with the Golion team?"

"I'm afraid we haven't yet ascertained-"

"Find out!"

"Yes, sir."

"And while you're at it, I want your tech crews to work twice as fast on Blue Lion. I want her taken apart and put back together again so that we know every inch of her as well as our own technology. And I want it done quickly. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

The Emperor slouched in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose in an apparent headache. "If it weren't for the Lions Altea would have never left my father's control. We can't allow them to beat us back again. I want to know every detail about them, I want to know _everything_…"

"Yes, sir." Gibra acknowledged, though he had a feeling Sincline wasn't actually speaking to him.

"If it wasn't for those Lions…"

…

Kogane had given Amue adequate time to cool down after her outburst in the ship's hangar, or rather he _hoped_ he'd given her adequate time to cool down. The woman was so high-strung that it seemed she lived in an almost constant state of tension and the Black Lion pilot wondered if it was just her normal personality or if this was a lasting effect from her time spent as Sincline's captive. From what little he remembered of the woman before the then Prince Imperial had gotten his hands on her she had been soft-spoken and demure and most certainly _without_ a hair-trigger temper. But then again, he had only met her once before her capture and his memory of the meeting was vague at best. In all honesty, Kogane hoped that this was just her personality and not some lasting effect from her trauma. He didn't much like the idea of Fala jumping every time someone tapped her on the shoulder or fearing the very touch of a male hand even if it belonged to a friend.

With these fears and anxieties fixed clearly in the forefront of his mind, the Black Lion pilot knocked tentatively on the Heraclesian princess' door.

"Who is it?" Came Amue's demanding yet regal voice.

"Kogane Akira." He answered. "I want to have that talk."

After a prolonged pause the door opened and Amue stepped out, shutting the door back behind her and flattening herself against it. Kogane remembered how violently she had reacted earlier when he'd come up behind her unexpected and he wondered if the only way she could feel comfortable with not being able to see enemies at her back was with it against a wall. Then he thought why she should feel so threatened at all here in the Heraclesian castle, here in her own home. Had Sincline really scarred her so deeply? Or was she just the nervous type?

"That was a nice move back at the hangar." He said, hoping to put her at ease with a little light banter and a friendly compliment. "I didn't know Heracles had a marital-art style similar to Judo."

"That wasn't Heraclesian fighting." She said, not quite meeting Kogane's eyes. "Ryou taught me that after he rescued me from the firing squad. If I had known it before I… I wish I had know it before."

"Ryou-kun's a good kid." The Golion Chief nodded, not wanting to ask what she meant by 'before' but already knowing the answer. He would ask her about it eventually, that was his original purpose in coming to her in the first place, but he wanted to work up to it. He wanted to try and put her at ease before asking her to recall what was obviously a painful experience for her. "Back at the Academy on Earth he was a year behind us but Quiet brought him along on allot of our off-campus excursions. He's a pretty cool guy."

"He's the _best_!" She agreed and a beautiful smile of honest to goodness joy crossed her lips and her whole face seemed to light up with affection.

Kogane didn't quite know how to react to that so he just shrugged and said, "Eh, I knew his brother better." And then thinking that this warm and happy state thinking of Shirogane Ryou was as relaxed as he was going to get her and realizing that the subject of Ryou was a perfect segue, he continued, "So, Ryou-kun was a big help to you after you got away from Sincline?"

Her mood instantly darkened again and she answered in a whisper, "Yes…"

Kogane suppressed a groan. Just the mention of Sincline's name sent her right back into that state of depressed tension that he was trying to pull her out of. He couldn't very well ask her to relive some of the most painful months of her life for him if she was already sick with anxiety! Well, he _could_ but he would feel really bad about it. Perhaps a slight change in topic was in order.

"Ya know, I taught Fala that same move you used on me."

"Really?"

"Yup." He nodded. "Me, Seidou, Kurogane, Shorty, Shirogane and Ryou-kun all took Judo back at the Academy. When we crashed on Altea we taught Raible a bit of it and after Fala took over piloting Blue Lion we taught her too."

"That good." Amue nodded in approval. "A woman should know how to defend herself against… a woman should know how to defend herself."

"And a princess especially." The Golion Chief agreed.

"Mm." Amue nodded.

"I'd like to see his face when Fala tosses Sincline across the room!" The Black Lion pilot joked with a cheerful tone. But the moment the words were out of his mouth he was seized with a hysterical fear. Sincline wouldn't take to kindly to being thrown, especially not by someone whom wasn't supposed to be _able_ to like Princess Fala. What if he retaliated by hurting her or worse? Within the space of a second, Kogane had worked himself back up into a state of panic. Princess Amue, for her part, seemed to have returned to her apparently default state of tension.

"She won't use it on him." She muttered darkly.

"What?" The Golion Chief sputtered. "Why the hell not! That's why I taught it to her!"

"He's got this drug…" Her voice dropped conspiratorially low, as if this were a secret she wasn't mean to speak of and there could be spies all around waiting to tattle on her or deal out a punishment. "It… it makes you _want_ him. But you don't really want him, I mean its not really _you_ that wants him but rather some part of you. Instead of fighting him it makes you beg for him and for…" She trailed off; tears suddenly glistened in the corners of her eyes. "I have to go!"

The princess wrenched the door to her room back open and slipped inside.

"Wait!" Kogane put his hand of the door to prevent her form closing it in his face. "Tell me more. I need to know! What's he going to do to Fala? What's this drug? What does it make you want? What does _he_ do when you're like that? How can I… how can I help Fala after we rescue her? I need to know!"

"I've never told anyone this…" She whispered.

"I need to know!"

"I haven't even told Ryou…"

"Princess, please."

"He said he loves me, ya know."

"Sincline?" Kogane blinked in confusion. He thought the heterogeneous despot only ever claimed that about Fala.

"No, Ryou." Amue shook her head. "He told me he loved me before I left, but I… I didn't tell him I loved him back. I have never spoken about my time as Sincline's prisoner to anyone before. But when I do it will be to him, because… because I."

She she didn't finish that sentence but instead shut the door in Kogane's face.

The Black Lion pilot was left standing in the corridor staring at the ornately carved wooden door of the princess' chamber. He ran through their conversation one more time in his head and decided that only one conclusion about be drawn from it. '_That chick has got some wires crossed.'_

…

As agreed, Captain Nera arrived at Her Majesty's chambers promptly at Tenth-hour, teaching materials in hand. She was not a great scholar by any stretch of the imagination nor did she think she would make all that great a tutor. Her materials were the same her youngest daughter had used when she had attended grammar school and the Captain had no experience giving instruction in academia. Her strengths lied more in the physical disciplines rather than the scholarly ones. But, Her Majesty had requested that she teach her the Galran language, and so Nera was going to at least try.

She was admitted into Her Majesty's chambers by the slave, Marisol and this time the Captain offered a slight nod of her head in response to the woman's submissive bow. If the Empress believed in showing slaves difference then it would be insulting for the Captain of the Queen's guard to not do the same (no matter how awkward and _wrong_ it felt).

Empress Fala _ni_ Altea sat on her sofa in much the same way she had the previous day, only this time she was clad in a fine dress of lavender and gold. She moved with a similar stiffness as well but this time it was apparent that was from barely contained frustration than any sort of physical pain. But the Empress still managed to greet the Galran woman with a warm (if a little hallow) smile.

"Good morning, Nera."

The Captain bowed respectfully to her lady before returning a courteous and respectful, "Good morning to you as well, Your Majesty."

The Empress fidgeted as if there were something more she wished to say or ask, but she didn't. Instead Fala sat back down with a forlorn look on her soft human face and said, "Well then, I guess we should get started."

In spite of Nera's lack of academic prowess and teaching experience, the Empress proved to be a very good student. Though she had only just begun and was no where near memorizing the three different alphabets that made up the Galran writing system, Fala _ni_ Altea took to the actual pronunciations rather well. Would often confuse her '_il_'s with her '_el_'s, but aside from that every syllable that rolled off the Empress' human tongue sounded like a natives. When the Captain complemented her on this, she merely blushed and said, "I'm just trying to imitate when I would over-hear Galran comm. channels during battles."

The reminder that the Empress had once been one of the pilots of Golion had jarred Nera a bit. She knew that Fala _ni_ Altea had been the pilot of Blue Lion prior to her capture but at some point the Captain had sort of forgotten that little detail. The Empress always appeared quite and withdrawn as if suppressing her feelings (with the exception of her outburst the morning after her wedding night), the Empress appeared the picture of a demure little trophy wife while the Golion pilots (all of them) had been painted as bold and antagonistic villains in the minds of the Galran people. It was somewhat difficult to reconcile the two conflicting images of Empress Fala.

Once Fala had gotten a firm grip on the basic sounds and accent, Nera started her practicing the first of the three Galran alphabets. Within the Galran written language there were three distinct writing systems. The first, and one which Fala was currently studying, was a phonetic system meant for the spelling of native words. The second alphabet, like the first, was a phonetic system, however, it was meant only for foreign words that had been integrated into the Imperial language. The third system was the most difficult. It was comprised of over three thousand characters, each one expressing a single specific idea or meaning. Most were fairly basic such as 'zero', 'fire', 'strength', etc. However, others were more complicated, such as 'a feeling of such abject loathing that the object of said feeling is below you even to acknowledge its existence'. It was this writing system that Nera was dreading having to teach the Empress. The phonetic alphabets were pretty easy, the characters were pronounced the same, they just looked different, so long as you were able to keep them strait and didn't confuse one for the other you were fine. But the meaning-specific characters, oy!, where those ever a headache.

The two women worked together for a little over an hour, Fala reading each character out loud as she scrolled through the alphabet on her datapad and Nera offering minor corrections here and there whenever the Empress might confuse one character for another that looked similar. Eventually, they progressed from just memorizing the characters to forming words with them. Nera would give Fala a simple word like 'cat', 'sword', etc and the Empress would spell it. After another hour of this the two women became tired of this and mutually decided it was time for a break.

…

Fala surrounded by her entourage of guards glided through the halls of Demon Castle, the skirts of her lavender and gold dress swaying about her ankles like a sea of delicate pastel. Though she'd only had a little over two hours of lessons and practice she wanted to test command of the language. She wanted to find a decently difficult conversation to listen in on and see just how much of it she could understand and how much she still had to learn. Unfortunately for her, most of the conversations in the corridors were nothing but short pleasantries, "Hey, how are you?" "I'm good. How's your day been?" Nothing of any substance. She needed to find something with substance.

Her wanderings lead her to the throne room. The doors were closed, as they always were regardless of whether or not it was in use. But muffled bits of speech managed to drift through its thick dark-wood doors to grace Fala's ears and she found herself curious to learn what they were talking about.

A pair of attendance opened the massive double doors for her, one of them announcing her entrance before offering a low bow and doing a theatrically exaggerated about face. The doors were then shut back behind the Empress' back.

Fala, for her part, had taken a single step within the expansive audience chamber before freezing in her tracks. Sincline sat upon the Golden Thrown clad in a long black tunic with gold patterning on the collar, shoulders and cuffs, a crimson velvet cape was draped lazily over one shoulder and fastened with a gold clasp at the other shoulder. In his hands he held a golden scepter and a golden orb with an eyeball in the center in the other. He did not look at her as she entered, his glare fixed upon a man wearing a military uniform who knelt on one kneed before the foot of the dais, presumably, the one who had been speaking before the Empress had interrupted.

She hadn't wanted to see him and she mentally kicked herself for her stupidity. Just because she hadn't been in the throne room since his coronation didn't mean that he didn't use said room at all. Just because the majority of the time she'd seen him actually working at ruling his Empire he was in his office did not mean that the throne room was completely unused and if she heard voices coming from the throne room then who else would they be talking to? Really, now.

'_Fala, you get a gold star for idiocy_.' She reprimanded herself.

The Emperor's gaze refused to focus on Fala as he brushed off her entrance with some causal comment of which she only just got the jist and ordered something be brought out for her to sit. He then instructed the kneeling man to continue.

Well, as long as she was here… This would, after all, be the perfect opportunity to test her listening comprehension of the Galran language. And, heck, she might just pick up some useful information in the process! With her nose in the air and an imperious expression on her face she hoped was fitting for a Galran Empress, Fala climbed the stairs of the dais and sat at Sincline's left side in the chair provided. A rather lovely chair, carved with intricate designs and lacquered in gold with a comfortable red velvet cushion and arm rests that were just the perfect height for her arms.

She cast a sideways look at her husband, but he refused to look at her. His face remained a blank and expressionless mask, completely unreadable as he focused his gaze everywhere but on her and Fala was reminded of how he had gotten that same look the previous night when she had told him that they were not _ardan_. She also remembered how upset it had seemed to make him and she wondered if she hadn't actually committed a much more severe insult than just a simple romantic rejection.

Remembering the previous night also sent her cheeks a blaze as she also recalled the drug he had dosed her with and the feelings it provoked. The blush deepened as Fala remembered just how her body had felt warm to the touch all over and her thighs ached to feel Sincline between them. Sitting in her chair next to him she pressed her legs closer together, her thighs firmly shut against any phantom feelings of him inside her. She may have craved him like a mad woman this last night past, but that didn't mean she actually _wanted_ him. Caving and wanting were not one and the same, she reminded herself firmly even as that warm feeling she had come to recognize as arousal began to pool between her thighs.

Next to her Sincline sniffed inconspicuous and shifted his position so that he was leaning away from her, his cheek resting on his hand, his fingers splayed over his cheek, one resting casually just under his nose. Fala rubbed her firmly closed legs together and wondered if he could smell her involuntary arousal. Then she reminded herself that if he could tell when her menstruation began and ended just from her smell, then he could probably tell when she was aroused as well. The Empress distracted herself from the discomforting thought by focusing her attention on the reason she had come here in the first place: listening to Galran conversations and assessing her comprehension.

As it happened, Fala understood very little of the report the man was giving the Emperor. But then again, what had she expected after only one lesson? She did manage to glean a few scattered words and phrases, however. Mostly terms she had picked up listening to the Galran channels during their battles. The rest she filled in with simple logic and guesswork.

From what she could gather, thought the man wore a military officer's uniform he was actually an explorer (or surveyor) of sorts and had discovered a few rural planet along the Imperial Frontier and was petitioning the Emperor for money and ships to capture the planet in the name of the Empire. (Admittedly, this was _a lot_ of guesswork on Fala's part.)

Sincline waited patiently for the man to finish his proposal, (which Fala thought was rather uncharacteristic of him) before giving his reply of 'No'. His actual answer was, of course, much longer than just that simple word but that was what it all basically boiled down to.

The Emperor did not want to divert any time, money or resources to any other large projects until the 'Golion situation' had been dealt with and was under the Emperor's firm control. No other ships, personnel, labor, or money would be spent on expanding the Empire, there was no point in expansion if control over what they already had could not be maintained. The Empress had to begrudgingly admit that that was a wise decision on her husband's part and that maybe he wasn't as terrible a leader as she'd always imagined he was. And then her brain caught up with her ears…

'_Golion situation'_! Sincline didn't already have full control over Golion! That could only mean that he didn't have the Lions! At least, not all of them. That could only mean that the boys had managed to smuggled them off of Altea or at least away from the castle and hidden them somewhere. Maybe the fighting was still going on!

That thought made her a little heartsick for her home-world. If the war was still being fought on Altean soil than that meant her people were still suffering, dying as collateral damage in the battles between Beastmen and Lions. The land was being torn and scarred, charred by lazer-fire and fall-out from whatever special ability Galra's Beastman-of-the-week was using.

Her heart felt sick.

But at the same time if Sincline felt the Empire couldn't afford to divert its resources then that meant that even suffering the defeat they had and surrendering as they did… even without the Castle Gradma to support them, the Lions were still a real threat to Galra. Heart-sick as she was for her beautiful green home-world, Fala couldn't help but glow with pride that it was her father's Lions, her planet's weapons that were giving the evil Empire and its vile Emperor such a hard time.

His interview with the prospective explorer over with, Sincline motioned that he would hold no more audiences today and stood. For the first time since she had entered the throne room he glanced at his wife, his mask of bland indifference breaking for a moment to reveal a lingering forlorn look abject wretchedness. Then he turned away from her once again without so much as a word and exited through a door concealed behind the thrown on the dais. She thought of following him for a moment but didn't know what she might say or if she should even say anything at all. So, instead she descended from the dais and exited out the same double door through which she entered.

…

Sincline locked himself in his office and sat despondent in front of his desk for long moments after exiting the throne room.

He hadn't expected her to show up. Almost a month she'd been living in Demon Castle and hadn't gone near the throne room since his coronation. The Emperor had begun to think she associated that room with blood and sacrifice, two things she apparently detested about his society. But today she just waltzed in, bold as daylight (on a planet that actually _got_ daylight). Had she done this a week earlier, hell, if she'd done this _yesterday_, he would have been overjoyed! He _wanted_ her to rule by his side, he _wanted_ his people to see her as their sovereign as much as they saw him. He had married her because he wanted to share his Empire with her as an equal! And all she had to do to get all that was to willingly submit to him.

Last night, however, she had made it abundantly clear that she wanted none of it. She didn't want to rule by his side, she didn't want his people to look to her as their queen, she didn't want to share his Empire with him and she would never submit to his dominance (at least, not without a serious push on his end).

_Fine!_

All that was just fine. He didn't need her to rule by his side, he didn't need his people to look to her as they did him, he didn't need to share his Empire with her. He could be content with just using her as yet another unwilling bedroom partner. That, at least, was familiar territory.

But if she hadn't wanted to rule by his side and all that jazz, why had she bothered to sit in on the throne room audiences at all? The woman made absolutely no sense!

Sincline let out a gusty sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose where he felt an on-coming headache. Why did she confound him so? He managed to understand most of the other women in his life just fine. (That's not to say that he understood _women_, just those that he had encountered his lifetime.) Hell! Even Amue, volatile as she was, was easier to understand than Fala was.

'_Whatever, I don't care anymore._' He reminded himself vehemently. She had refused to be his _ardan_, his lover and mate and all the gifts that came with it. Legally, they might still be married, but in every practical sense she had made herself no different from any of the slaves in his harem. '_And I don't need to understand her to fuck her senseless._'

…


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

(A/N: A brief warning. This chapter contains depictions of emotionally and psychologically demeaning acts of Master/slave and Dominant/submissive sexual fetish. Do not read if this is not to your taste. You have been warned.)

The Sindariin

Chapter Seventeen:

Late in the evening Fala was lounging in her sitting room thinking of how she should have taken the opportunity in the throne room to study the concealed door behind the dais. The hidden door that connected her bedroom to Sincline's was completely invisible when closed, but perhaps the one behind the throne was not. Or if it was, maybe there was some common identifiable characteristic shared between the two hidden passages that the Empress could learn to recognize and possibly use to find other such doors.

She had thought about going back several time over the course of the day, but didn't for fear of a servant or slave reporting her scrutiny to Sincline. They may not realize what she was doing, but her husband was no idiot and would most definitely put two-and-two together. Any hope she might have of escape would be dashed the moment he discovered her interest in the hidden doors and concealed passages. Fala had a feeling the only reason he hadn't already forbidden her from studying the castle layouts in the library was because the hidden passages didn't appear on them. He probably thought her searches were rather amusing and that rankled her just a bit.

With a sigh that was half exasperation at her seemingly hopeless situation and half resignation that she wasn't going to be escaping any time soon, the Empress stretched and pulled her datapad towards her. Captain Nera had left her with a few low-level reading materials for her. Just short little stories meant for children with large print and brightly colored illustrations. Fala scrolled through the list of titles, not understanding a single one but recognizing a few characters here and there. Most of the titles were written in that third writing system of Galra's, the one that expressed ideas rather than sounds. But what was nice about this children's book (for lack of a better term) was that the phonetic pronunciations had been typed below the difficult characters so that the child (or in this case, foreigner) attempting to read it was still able to.

Some of the titles were rather strait forward and easy to understand such as 'Beren and Lúthien', which was obviously a story about the two characters named in the title. Others, however, the Altean-born Empress hadn't the slightest clue as to what they might possibly be about such as 'The [Something Something] and the [Something Else]'. At least she could get in some practice with reading the characters. That was good, right?

It was as Fala was sounding out the first line of a story titled 'The Sindariin' (whatever that was) that Marisol interrupted her with an apologetic bow. She rose and handed Fala an intricately patterned piece of card-stock with a single line written across it in neat Altean characters making it obvious that it was not the writer's first language.

'_The Emperor summons you to his bedchamber this evening before dinner._'

"Oh, how sweet." The Empress snorted derisively. "He actually sent me a printed invitation."

She tossed the card over her shoulder where it bounced off the back of the couch and clattered to the floor. She had no desire to go to his bed tonight or any other night for the rest of her life! But then again…

The memory of how much she had craved him the previous night fluttered up to the forefront of her mind. She remembered how her body had trembled with the wanton desire to feel his hands on her, his body's weight on her, his member with in her… Fala's face flushed and she focused her attention back on her poor reading in an attempt to push the memory from her mind.

"M'lady," Marisol began tentatively, "he has summoned you. You cannot ignore an Imperial command from the Emperor."

Fala was about to snap back with a comment about how _she_ couldn't because she was a slave, but as Empress Fala had the luxury to decline. But that would have been just plain mean to Marisol not to mention untrue. She was expected to follow Sincline's commands as readily as any servant or slave and that fact just made her loath her situation even more, solidifying her resolve to get away some how.

But not right now. Not yet. For the moment she had to play his game and act the part of a good little wife. And so Fala tossed her datapad back onto her coffee table and stood.

"Then I guess I should get ready."

…

Sincline opened the plain unadorned black-lacquered box and withdrew from it a collar. Not a slave collar, this one had no thumb-print lock nor would it contract to strangle the wearer should they try to escape. No. It was a simple black leather strap with a primitive silver buckle. Silver studs ran its length from buckle to just before the holes for said buckle on the other end. It was the type of collar one might get for an animal, a pet. But this collar had been designed and fitted for a human.

Sincline had often made Princess Amue wear this collar during the short time that she had serviced him. (If you could even call what she did 'service'. The disobedient _bitch_!)

He had though about having a new one made specifically for Fala. Something in a pink (as was her favorite color) with gold buckle and studs rather than silver and a tiny bell that would tinkle so cutely when she moved. But then, he reflected, it was not meant to cater to her vanity but rather to teach her a lesson. If she wanted to lower herself to being nothing more than his little fuck-toy then fine, she would be his little fuck-toy. Not his _ardan_, not his lover, not his mate… nothing that would elevate her above 'whore'. He had offered her the universe and she threw it back at him. Well, _fine_! If she wanted to be nothing more than another one of his sluts, then he would treat her like just another one of his sluts.

He placed the collar on the bed and withdrew the coiled leather leash that went along with it. It was as he was laying this out on the bed alongside the collar that the door connecting his bedroom to his 'loving' wife's was opened and she stepped through. Sincline schooled his features into an expression of malicious amusement before turning around to face her. When he did, however, the mask cracked and he instead gazed admiringly at the lovely Altean beauty that was his wife.

Fala stood with her eyes downcast, avoiding direct eye contact with him. Her hands were folded in front of her, one resting inside the other, her fingers clenching and unclenching nervously. Her slave had dressed her in a most appealing negligee of pale pink accented with gold lace. It hung from her shoulders and breast as if threatening to fall at the slightest movement and reveal the porcelain perfect of her skin to his roving eyes. The delicate hem of its skirt fell just long enough to conceal the juncture of her thighs but left the rest of her legs exposed to his appreciative gaze.

She was breath taking.

Sincline went stiff at the sight of her and had to glance down to make sure his arousal was not poking through the folds of his robe. He wanted to rush up and take her in his arms and kiss her softly, run his hands over her body exploring the smooth flesh beneath the thin fabric, he wanted to lift her up in his arms and carry her to his bed and lay with her as lovers should, with passion and fervor and ardor and all those other wonderful nouns.

But he did not.

He had offered her the chance to experience him as a caring lover and she had rejected him. Sincline hardened his heart against her most alluring charms and let his face fall into his more commonly used mask of bland indifference, since he could not fake anything malicious or sadistic at the moment.

The Emperor turned his back to his Empress, picking up the collar once again and said in as even a tone as he could manage, "Your cloths, take them off.'

"But-" She began to argue but cut herself off before the full dispute could pass her lips. She knew better by now than to disrespect a direct order. She also knew that if she didn't comply and remove her scant clothing of her own volition he would rip them from her.

When he turned back around, Sincline was pleased to see that she stood naked before him, her negligee draped over the same chair that he preferred to throw his discarded clothing on. He made a beckoning motion with his hand.

"Come here." He ordered.

Fala slowly crossed the space between them, stopping just out of his arms reach. Her eyes fell on the leather studded collar in his hand. "What's that for?"

"For you." The Emperor answered simply. Crossing the remaining distance between them, he fastened the collar around her delicate unblemished neck, making sure that it was loose enough for him to fit one finger beneath the band.

"Why?"

Instead of answering her question, Sincline yanked roughly on the collar making Fala stumble and fall against him, her hand's clawed for balance at the sleeves of his robe pulling the material of his collar apart and revealing the taught, well toned muscles of hi chest. He pushed her back to her feet and glaring down at her and snarled, "Do not question your Master."

"What!"

He yanked on the collar a second time without a word, this time not bothering to catch her as she was thrown off balance. She fell hands first onto the bed but before she could right herself again, Sincline pushed her back down. "What did I say?'

Fala didn't answer.

He clipped the leash to her collar and tugged on it to pull her back up, the leather strap pressing against the front of her esophagus, making her gag. He bent down to meet her eye level and said, "If I tell you to do something, you will do it. If I give you something, you will take it. You will not ask questions. You will do as you're told or else. Have I made myself clear?"

Fala clawed at the collar, trying desperately to work her fingers under it to pry the strap away from her throat.

"Have I made myself clear, Fala?" Sincline repeated, giving the leash a little slack.

"Yes." She gasped. "I understand."

"Good." He smiled, suddenly all sweetness. "Now then, are you hungry? How about dinner?'

He lead her with the leash through the door to his sitting room where two slaves were busy setting a delicious looking meal on the coffee table. Fala instantly flushed and attempted to cover her nudity, one arm going across her ample breasts, the other sliding down to cover her nethers. She felt utterly scandalized, her own husband leading her naked into a room of people. It was an affront to every single bit of modesty Hys had drilled into her and if she weren't tethered to him via the leash he held she would have darted back into the bedroom and hid.

Sincline, on the other hand, seemed not to notice their presence at all. He sat himself down, reclining on the couch in front of the coffee table as if he hadn't a care in the world. The action causing his robe to part slightly displaying his dark blue balls. When she failed to follow, he yanked on her leash again and Fala slowly moved to sit beside him, her steps made awkward by her attempts to hide her exposed body from the slaves. The moment her delicate round backside touched the couch, however, the Emperor kicked her off again.

"On the floor." He growled.

Suppressing a sudden whimper that rose in her throat, Fala sank to her knees on the floor next to him, her bottom lip quivering from mingled shame and fear. She had no idea where he was going with this or what he planned but she already did _not_ like it.

The two slaves finished setting the table and were dismissed. The Empress breathed a sigh of relief as they left and let her hands fall. It was then that she finally let herself examine her surroundings. She had never been in Sincline's sitting room before. It actually wasn't all that different from his bedroom in terms of colors and adornments. Lots of blues in shades of powder and navy, dramatic paintings of Galran warriors in medieval or Renaissance clothing, dark wood furniture. The biggest difference was really that one room held a bed while the other held a table, couch, a couple of chairs, bookshelf (that was packed) and a small liquor cabinet with a flat surface like a mini-bar on top. The liquor cabinet, she noted, was also very well stocked. Sincline was apparently a heavy drinker, just one more vice to add to his already long list of excesses.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, interrupting her musings and returning her to the fact that she sat naked at his feet like an animal.

Fala glanced at the food spread out over the oval shaped coffee table and noted that, while there was plenty for two people, there was only one plate (which Sincline was already filling with generous helpings of various meats for himself). She glanced between him and the place setting, wondering if he was intending for her to watch while he ate and she did not.

He took a generous bite of some pink meat and closed his eyes, savoring the flavor as he chewed. He then cut a second smaller piece and held it out for her on the end of his fork. "Try this."

Fala hesitated. "That's not… people… is it?"

With his free hand the Emperor yanked on her leash, nearly causing her to bang her forehead on his knee. "When I give you something, you will take it without question!"

Suppressing a wince, Fala closed her eyes and took the offered bit of meat off his fork. The moment it touched her tongue, however, her fears were alleviated. It wasn't human meat, it was just pork! He wasn't monster enough to make her eat the flesh of her own people, or at least, he hadn't tried to yet. What worried her now was this new treatment he was giving her, as if she were nothing more than a pet. A dog of some sort being fed table scraps at his feel. And why? Because she had refused to be his _ardan_?

"Are you thirst?" Her husband asked as he poured a glass of water from a pitcher.

As she obediently accepted the glass Fala supposed she should count herself lucky he wasn't making her drink out of a bowl on the floor. But as she sipped the crystal clear liquid it became apparent that he had some other nefarious purpose in allowing her to drink. The water did not taste like water should. There was a subtle hit of flavor to it, like how water sometimes tastes when you slice up lemon rinds in it. Only this flavor was sweeter, more like a syrup-medicine. He had laced it with something!

"What's in this?"

Instead of answering, Sincline tugged violently on the leash pulling her up by the collar to meet his eyes. "That's twice now you've questioned me." He growled. "If it happens again I'll have to punish you."

She managed an awkward nod, the angle at which the collar was pulling her face up making the motion difficult. But it was enough to satisfy her perverted sadist of a husband and so he let her back down.

The meal continued from that point on in silence. Fala sat quietly at his feet while he ate, occasionally offering her bits of meat or vegetables off his plate. She noticed that he seemed to give the majority of his vegetables to her and wondered if he had never quite grown out of that 'vegetables are gross' phase that most children go through. Then again, Galrans were carnivorous by nature, being half human might give him the option of having a varied diet but his natural leaning would be toward meats. This was just a passing thought, however. Her thoughts shifted when she realized that all the foods he'd given her so far had been rather salty and made her thirsty.

She glared suspiciously at her still half full glass of water. After that first sip she had tried to avoid drinking it as much as possible, but Sincline had insured that she would have to drink by only feeding her food that would make her parched. A very subtly way of forcing her to drink whatever drug it was he had spiked the water with. What an evil conniving bastard!

"Are you still hungry?"

Fala glanced at the fork he was holding out for her and shook her head. Truth be told, she was still hungry, he had made sure to feed her only enough to wet her appetite but not nearly enough to actually satisfy her (as was most likely his plan). But she knew that if she ate anymore she would want more water. In the choice between knowingly drugging herself and going a night without food she'd rather go to bed hungry than ingest an unknown substance with an unknown purpose. (Not that she suspected Sincline would give her anything particularly _damaging_, she just didn't like the idea of putting things in her body if she didn't know what they were.)

"You will eat." Her husband growled when she shook her head 'no'.

"I'm full." His wife lied. But no sooner were the words out of her mouth than her treacherous stomach gave a none to subtle growl of protest. It apparently didn't care what Sincline's nefarious plans were, it just wanted more food. The Emperor raised one skeptical eyebrow at her and she reluctantly took the meager bite of meat and vegetables off his fork.

"You must be thirsty, too." He continued, refilling her water glass even though it was still half-full.

Fala suppressed the urge to ask what he had put in the water. She feared what kind of 'punishment' he might visit upon her for continuing to question him. She was sure that he did not want her dead, nor permanently damaged and so she could rest assured that whatever was in it would not kill her or cause any lasting harm. Reluctantly, she took her newly filled water glass and sipped it conservatively.

"That a girl." Sincline cooed, stroking her hair affectionately as one might a cat or favored pet. "Drink more… I need you well hydrated for tonight."

Fala wasn't sure what he meant by that and was rather confident in the belief that she did not want to find out. But she was also aware that her options were rather limited and that she did not want to find out what he might do to her should she refuse to cooperate with his demands. Reluctantly, she took another large gulp of the sweet laced water and hoped that she wouldn't regret drinking whatever was in it.

"Good…" He whispered.

She winced at the soft and almost soothing tone in his voice, as if he were speaking to a child. Fala drained the glass and glanced up at him whom smiled warmly.

"Now, was that so bad?"

Unsure of how to answer and afraid of saying the wrong thing and angering him once again, Fala just lowered her eyes.

As the dinner progressed Fala began to feel warm to spite her nakedness. She could feel a light blush begin to cover her whole body and she knew that the drug in her water must have caused it. Sincline had spiked the drink with the same aphrodisiac he had given her the previous night! She glanced up at him and noted that he was attempting to suppress a self-satisfied smirk. The drug had only just begun to take effect and he could already smell her body's reaction to it.

"Perhaps we should cut this dinner short?" Her husband suggested, standing as he did so. He gave her leash a gentle tug, signaling that she should do the same. "Shall we retire to the bedroom?"

Fala's nipples tightened into pearls of shamed excitement at the prospect but she did not move. Though the thought of having him inside her was beginning to sound very appealing, she still retained enough of her rational mind to know that it was not an experience she wanted to relive again. His idea of 'love making' was not a pleasant one.

Sincline, annoyed by her lack of movement yanked hard on the leash, pulling her to her feet by the collar. "Come on!"

She obediently followed him back to the bedroom gagging and coughing as they went. And yet, the rough treatment did nothing to discourage the arousal that was quickly building in the pit of her stomach and pooling between her thighs.

The moment they reached the bed she was quickly pushed down upon it. Laying on her back she watched with bated breath as Sincline slowly disrobed, sliding the golden satiny material off one muscular blue shoulder then the other. He stood naked before the bed and licked his lips with a wicked grin. Her eyes focused on his mouth, which suddenly seemed so very, very sensuous and remembered what he had done on their wedding night. How he had licked between her thighs with that wet pink tongue of his. She felt herself go wetter at the memory; he hadn't done it for long, but what he had done felt wonderful, the only thing he'd ever done to her that she had actually enjoyed.

He stretched out on the bed next to her, one blue clawed hand wrapping itself around one of her aching breasts and she squirmed. That self-satisfied grin was back and he leaned over her, his long fingers taking possession of both her desperately erect nipples. Stroking. Twisting. Tugging. All with a tenderness she would not have imagined he had in him and she moaned in pleasure at the sensation.

Sharp white fangs flashed in a knowing smile. "Someone's horny."

Fala wanted to bite back with some witty retort or smart-ass remark but her arousal-addled brain just wasn't up to it at the moment. She felt hot, feverish. Her eyes drifted down the length of Sincline's long alien body until they settled on his stiff member with its thick shaft and drooling tip, both oddly textured, a trait inherited from his alien blood. She had wanted it before, when he had drugged her and tied her to the bed, but now… now she found she _craved_ it! She licker her lips in anticipation for it, impatiently rubbing her thighs together and relishing the sensation of spreading her own hot wet desire over her skin.

She reached a single hand down and took hold of his granite-hard erection. Stroking it gently, felling every bump, every ridge, every contour of his thick length. He hissed with the sensation, golden cat-like eyes clouded by lust focused on her, his expression soft and affectionate.

"Somebody's impatient." He whispered in a deep throaty purr. "Naughty girl, did I say you could touch me?"

Sincline sat up and leaned over to open the bottom most drawer of his bedside table, pulling out the same cord he had used to tie her up the previous night.

Fala scurried onto her knees and sat protectively on her hands. "You're not going to leave me again? Are you?"

Her words sounded desperate and fearful, even to her own ears. But she wanted him so much… at this moment and in this state, she _needed_ him. If he made her go another night desperate to feel him inside her yet never having him she feared she might go mad!

"That all depends on you." He soothed, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and leaning down as if to kiss her. She closed her eyes, leaning into the kiss as well. Expecting to meet him half way. But at the last moment her turned to the said, her lips brushing lamely against the side of his neck. "If you're a good girl and do as you're told I might be incline to offer you some sort of relief."

"I'll be good." She nodded, desperate to keep him from leaving again.

"That's a good girl." He left the rope coiled on the bedside table, out and easy to reach should he need it and crawled back onto the bed. "Now lay back down and let me enjoy you."

Obediently, Fala uncoiled her hands from beneath her knees and laid herself out on the bed again. His hands were on her before she was even fully stretched out. Kneading. Tugging. Caressing. Fondling. Every where his hand passed her skin felt hot to the touch and tingly, as if he had lit a fire in her flesh and she wished to touch him in return. To light his skin on fire as he did hers. To make him as desperate for her and she was for him. If only she knew just how strongly her highly aroused state was already affecting him.

Fala's hand had felt so wonderful, so divine when she had stroked his throbbing erection. It had taken every ounce of willpower Sincline possessed to resist her. But he wanted to remain in control; he _needed_ to be in control. He would not allow her to dictate the pace. He would enter her eventually, he fully intended to finish inside her, but on _his own_ terms, only after she couldn't stand it any more. Only after she begged for him to fill her. The other night when he'd left her alone she had called his name in her need. His name, not that loathsome Black Lion pilot Kogane Akira or anyone else, _no_, she had called for _him_. He wanted to force that same plea from her lips again, and this time he wanted to see the desperation and need on her face. He wanted to see just how much she needed _him._

For the moment, however, he satisfied himself with rubbing against her side. Every inch of her body felt so soft and warm, the sensation of her skin on his was about the only thing keeping him from going mad with his own desire.

He lowered his lips to one of her taught nipples and sucked greedily, relishing in the way her back arched at the sensation. She let out a deep throaty moan of pleasure and his impatient member throbbed at the sound. The sweet and pungent scent of her arousal wafted about them, heightening Sincline's own, threatening to drive him wild with desire. No woman had ever driven him so close to the edge of his control, not even Amue whom had resembled Fala so greatly. Truly his wife was something special.

The Emperor mentally shook himself. No. She was not special. He had thought she was, but she refused him, rejected him; the only difference between her and any of the other women in his harem was that legally she was his wife. That was all. That was the only difference. She was not special. She wasn't!

"Sincline…"

And then she said his name. A soft, desperate, whispering sigh that once again had him clawing at the edge of his reason, desperate to maintain control and yet also desperate to loose it. He gazed into her round deep-blue eyes and saw himself reflected in them. She gazed at him with something that wasn't quite affection but certainly wasn't revulsion either.

"I…" She faulted, unsure of what she really wanted to say. Hys had always taught her that it was improper for a woman to want sex. That while it was a wife's duty it was not a task to be enjoyed. A woman with a heavy sexual appetite was of loose morals and improper breeding. But… but if the reason she wanted it wasn't her own but because of a drug that was alright… right? "Sincline, I… I want…"

"Speak up." He purred as his hands reached beneath her to fondle her neglected ass.

"I want… I want this…" Her hand once again stroked his stiff and aching shaft and this time he found that he couldn't resist her touch.

"On your knees." He ordered.

Without question Fala pulled herself up into a sitting position on her knees. She leaned in as if to hiss him, but he pushed her away.

"Turn around and bend over." He had meant it as a growl, but the words came out as more of a throaty purr.

"W-what?" She blinked in confusion.

"Do as you're told." That _was_ a growl.

Obediently, Fala turned her back to him and bent down on her hands and knees. His hands gripped the cheeks of her buttocks, kneading the soft flesh and caressing his palms over them. His hands drifted down along the outside of her legs and up the inside of her thighs. When his fingers brushed the entrance to her hot wet core she trembled with the sensation, moaning at even the slight touch.

"You really are a first rate slut, Fala." He murmured in her ear. His hand, wet with the nectar of her need closed itself around his cock, polishing it with her most intoxicating dew. "All open and creamy for me."

She wanted to respond with some smart comeback, but words were beyond her by this point. All she wanted was to have him inside her.

"I'm going to enjoy fucking your brains out!"

That was the only warning he gave her before thrusting himself roughly between her spread thighs and into her warm and receptive body. She jerked at the intrusion but as he began thrusting his hips in a fast-paced but steady motion her body relaxed, letting him slide deeper within her, each jolt of his hips punctuated by a throaty moan of ecstasy from her.

Her body was so open for him, her muscles loosening and contracting again, as if she were trying to pull him even deeper within her, as if her body were _sucking_ on him and the feeling nearly drove him to a quick climax. _Nearly_. She began to wiggle her hips, the action causing her ass to grind against him and he had to smirk at just how far gone her mind must be. In this moment her inhibitions were seemingly non-existent. He could convince her to perform the most profane and perverse acts for him. But he wouldn't. Not this time, not tonight. It was all he could do to keep from cumming the moment he entered her.

"So… good…!" She gasped into the pillow.

The sound of her voice sent him skyrocketing back to the edge of ecstasy and he once again had to fight his climax. Not yet. He wasn't ready yet.

"What's good?" He asked, thought it came out in a gasp.

"Mmm…" She moaned back, words apparently failing her.

"Fala, uh…" His own words were interrupted as her muscles once again contracted around him in another one of those divine 'sucking' motions. "What's 'so good'?"

"Y-you…" She gasped out between breaths.

"And who am I?" He needed to hear her say it, needed to know that it was him she was referring to and not imagining another man, a dark-haired, dark-eyed man from Earth. "What's my name, Fala?"

She gasped as her muscled contracted around him again. Beads of sweet lustful nectar dripped down her legs, staining the bedspread with her cum.

"Fala, what's my name?"

She bucked her hips more fervorently now, almost desperately. The walls of her inside stroking and caressing his shaft as if desperate to receive his hot sticky load. She was close to a climax of her own and was pulling him along with her. But he refused to give her release until she did as she was bade.

"_Say my name, damn it_!"

"S-SINCLINE!" She cried as her body trembled. The feeling of her around him and the sound of his own name shouted in ecstasy pushed him over the edge and he let go the final shred of his inhibitions and rode the waves of euphoria to a rapturous climactic orgasm.

He collapsed on top of her, trying as best he could not to rest too much of his considerable weight on his fragile human wife. She still lay bent over on her knees, the strength gone out of her arms and her face buried in the pillows, still muttering his name.

"Sincline… Sincline… Sincline…"

…

"Of course! Its so simple!"

Shorty's shrill yet triumphant cry jerked Sedou out of his nap. Sleeping while on guard duty was sure to get him a good tongue lashing from Kogane, but what the over-stressed Golion Chief didn't know wouldn't kill him. His pleasant nap, however, had been cut dramatically short by his diminutive companion's outburst.

"Wha's goin' on?" He yawned.

The miniature Grenn Lion pilot rushed up to him. "I've solved it!" He cried. "We gotta call Kogane and the other down here!"

Twenty minuets later, the four Golion pilots plus Princess Amue had gathered in the hangar of the Galran freight ship.

"What's this all about?" Kurogane asked, thrusting his hands in his pockets.

"I've solved it." Suzuishi said again. "I know how to get past the energy field that's surrounding planet Galra!"

A chorus of 'what!' followed this announcement.

"How!" Kogane placed his hands on the diminutive pilot's shoulders and nearly lifted him up by them.

"It was simple really." He said. "After the princess told us what everything in the ship was, it was easy to find the generator for their distortion field."

"Distortion field?" They all echoed, not really understanding how this was significant. Golion already had a force field, if that was all that was needed then why couldn't they have rescued Fala already.

"Yeah, distortion field." Shorty repeated. "Ya see, Galra is surrounded by an energy field and energy cannot be broken or destroyed, it can only be dispersed or redirected. You wouldn't be able to pass through the planet's energy barrier with a normal force field because the two energies would just bounce off each other and the small of the two would be flung away."

Everyone nodded as if they understood, but the Green Lion pilot had a sneaking suspicion they did not. Still he continued.

"So, I thought to myself, 'Galra's been sending ships in and out of their space for centuries. Their ships must be equipped with a way to either disperse or redirect the energy.' And sure enough they do! A distortion field! Instead of trying to destroy the energy around it, the field redirects and disperses it around the ship so that it can pass safely through the barrier. If we can reproduce the technology and equip it to our Lions we'd be able to pass through the field and save Fala with no sweat!"

"That's great!" Kogane might as well have done a little dance for how ecstatic he was. "How long until we can leave? We'll have to swing by Altea and pick up Blue Lion. Moody and I will start planning for that. When can you have five working distortion field things working and ready to be equipped to the Lions?"

Here Suzuishi faltered. "Well… that the thing… I still need to study the technology a bit more before I can even begin to try and reproduce it. And then… and then it'll take time to build one of our own, more so for five of them…"

"How long!" The Chief pressed.

"A… a few months."

"_Months_!" Everyone echoed.

"Fala doesn't have _months_!" Princess Amue stepped between Kogane and Suzuishi, picking the diminutive pilot up by the collar of his line-green jump suit. She glared daggers at him. "You can't leave her there with _him_ for _months_! Its bad enough she's been there this long! You have no idea what he'll do to her! What he's already doing to her! You can't! You just can't! Its too long! She'll… she'll…"

"Princess…" Kogane ventured in the hopes of calming her down.

She just degraded into sobs, dropping Shorty from her hands and sinking to her knees. "You can't…"

…


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Eighteen:

It had been a little over a week since Fala's final rejection of her husband's affections, a little over a week since he had in turn given up on trying to win her over and resorted to simply dosing her with a strong aphrodisiac whenever he wanted sex from her and now Fala was sick. Not mentally or emotionally (although, she was becoming that too), but actually physically sick. She had spent the past few days in a near constant state of nausea, her mornings beginning with a mad dash to her bathroom to void her stomach in the toilet bowl, her days continuing in queasy discomfort with the slightest smells threatening to once again drive her gorge up from with in her.

The only thing she could think of that could cause her current state of illness was the drug Sincline had been forcing down her throat every night. Taking it once on their wedding night had been fine and bore her no ill-effects, that second dose, the double dose he had given her the night she rejected him probably wasn't all that healthy for her, but would have been fine as a single isolated incident. But he had continued to force the stuff down her throat every night since then without fail and now the side effects were beginning to manifest.

Fala glared across the dinner table at her husband, the Emperor sat casually at the other end watching her with his golden cat-like eyes. As per usual, his face bore no expression, no indication as to what his thoughts might be, he was as expressive as a statue carved of beautiful blue marble. But she could see the slightest bit of hunger behind his golden eyes. He was already planning tonight's 'game' for them.

A slave filled his wine glass with _yarbara_ and he sipped the blood-wine slowly as if savoring a favored vintage.

Fala reached for her own water glass and took a tentative sip. The moment her tongue detected the now familiar flavor of the aphrodisiac she spat drink back into the crystal glass and pushed it away from herself. "Please, can I not drink that tonight?"

His eyes flickered momentarily, but the emotion was there and gone to quickly for the Empress to guess what it was. Sincline studied her from across the table, his expression still unreadable, but something in his air did manage to convey some level of annoyance. "It would make things easier for yourself if you took it."

"I think…" She faltered, unsure if this could be considered 'talking back' or 'questioning Master'. She didn't want to visit his anger upon herself before his 'play time' even began. "I think it's making me sick. I haven't been feeling well for days and I think the drug is causing it."

He said nothing to this, only continued to study her from across the long table.

"You can smell me." She continued. "You can tell when I'm on my period, when I'm scared, when I'm horny… you can tell all that just from my smell. You must have noticed that I'm sick too. Please, Sincline, don't make me drink this stuff anymore."

He set his wineglass down with a silent sigh. "I will admit that your scent has changed." He rested his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers, resting his chin on the platform they made and gazed at her from across the table. "But I do not believe it is the fault of the aphrodisiac. It was engineered specifically for use on human females and is not likely to have any bad side effects. It's more likely a vitamin D deficiency; you've been away from the sun to long."

"No, it's the drug." She insisted.

Now that _was_ talking back to Master. Sincline leaned back in his chair, that expression of bland indifference hardening into one of course reprimand. "I have used that same aphrodisiac on countless women before you, Fala. They never seemed to have a problem with it, not even Amue whom was never timid about voicing her every discomfort. Are you telling me that you're even _weaker_ than the average human female?"

"Then I suppose I _am_!" She snarled at him. "You married the weakest human female in existence! Does that make you proud?"

He barred his teeth in a silent snarl but said nothing in reply. The slaves brought out their food and the Emperor though it an appropriate opportunity to drop their argument. Though, he promised himself that this conversation would be revisited once he had her alone in the bedroom. He would make her beg and plead to be aloud to take the aphrodisiac again!

A servant set an elegant silver platter before the Empress and lifted the intricately tooled silver lid to reveal an exquisitely prepared meal. All Fala noticed, however, was how the smell of the normally appetizing food made her stomach heave and she feared she might be sick again. She glanced up at her husband whom was already chewing a bite of his meat contentedly. She would be damned if she allowed herself to be sick in front of him!

Fala forced herself to ignore the nausea churning in her stomach and cut herself a meager piece of her own meat. Halfway between the plate and her lips she set the fork down again, however. "May I please be excused?"

"What for?"

Fuck it! She was about to vomit all over the table, she didn't care if he was angry or offended, she would _not_ be sick in front of him! Without answering her husband's question, Fala rose from the dinning table and B-lined for the door that opened out onto the corridor. If she could just make it down the hall to her chambers and her own bathroom before-

She placed a hand on the wall to steady herself as the other arm coiled around her upset stomach and her gorge erupted out of her. She stood there heaving for a moment longer, trying to calm her roiling innards and reclaim some semblance of composure. Her shoes had been spattered by the vomit, as had the hem of her dress. She couldn't go back to Sincline like this.

Someone came up behind her and gathered her hair back behind her shoulders. She didn't turn to see who it was, knowing that it could really only be one person. The kind gesture confused her slightly, but then again, he was prone to performing random and inconsistent acts of compassion towards her.

Her mouth tasted foul and she wanted nothing more than to have a glass of water (clean water) and just lie down for a while. The question was: would Sincline allow her to? Straitening, she turned to look at him and to her great surprise beheld an expression of the utmost concern and anxiety.

"This isn't normal." He said.

"I _told_ you that- Sincline, what are you doing!"

Her husband had lifted her up into his arms, soiled skirts and all, and carried her down the hall, past her chambers and his own to the lift leading to the castle's lower levels. He ignored her questions of where he was taking her and what he was planning. She accused him of taking her to be thrown in with the rest of the slaves that were to old or weak to be useful as anything besides meat to keep the beastmen fed. This he ignored as well. Sincline did not put her down until they were safely inside the castle's medical wing and then he still kept one arm wrapped possessively around her waist.

A Galran man that Fala recognized as the doctor that had accompanied the human trauma surgeon whom was her personal physician when Sincline had torn up her back early on in their sexual relationship. He had been reading when she and the Emperor entered, his datapad resting on his knee, his feet up on a counter (that could not have been sanitary!), reclining back in a wheeled desk-chair. The moment he saw the Imperial couple, however, he leapt from his comfortable position and offered apologetic bows to each.

"Fetch the woman." Sincline commanded in his native language. Over the past week Fala's Galran had improved greatly (though she was still no where near proficient) and could now understand simple statements, questions and commands.

The Galran doctor bowed again and disappeared through a door opposite the one they had just entered. He returned quickly with the Earthling trauma surgeon in tow. The moment the woman noticed the Emperor her eyes dropped and she offered a deep bow of submission, like all slaves on Galra she knew her place. Then with slightly less submission but just as much respect she turned to the Empress and offered Fala an equal bow all her own.

"How may I be of service?"

"The Empress is unwell." Sincline answered before Fala had a chance to. "I believe it to be a vitamin deficiency of some kind and would-"

"No, it's that stupid drug you keep giving me!" The Empress overrode him, not pleased with being spoken for nor having her husband attempting to bias her doctor toward the explanation he preferred.

He glared down at her but offered no reprimand. His face was contorted in mingled annoyance and concern as the two emotions battled within him. He turned back to the human doctor and fixed the woman with an icy glare that promised pain and possible death if she did not do as she was commanded. "Fix her."

And with that, the Emperor stormed from the infirmary.

The Galran doctor, not one to trust a lowly human slave to being able to properly attend the Emperor's wife nor trusting to leave the two human females alone together reclaimed the seat he had been lounging in prior to the royal couple's arrival. He pulled his datapad back toward him and resumed the appearance of reading, however his eyes did not move across the screen, his attention focused on the Altean-born Empress and his pathetic human 'pupil'.

"What seems to be the trouble?" She asked.

"Everything!" Fala moaned. "I've been taken from my home, forced into an unwanted marriage, raped, drugged, belittled and-"

"My apologies, Your Majesty, I meant to ask what are your symptoms." She was not trying to be insensitive to Fala's emotional trauma; it just wasn't her area of expertise. She was a medical doctor not a therapist of psychiatrist. Her specialty was cutting, not talking (rather fitting for one that lived within the Galra Empire).

"Oh, right." The Empress' cheeks colored in mild embarrassment. Of course the doctor had been referring specifically to her physical troubles. "I've been feeling sick for the past few days. I'm almost always nauseous like I'm about to puke." She shifted her skirts slightly, suddenly very conscious that their hem was still spattered, as were her shoes. "Usually when I do throw-up I can manage to get to a toilet in time so there's no fuss. This time… I kinda puked in front of Sincline."

As Fala spoke the doctor opened a drawer and removed a stethoscope, specula and a variety of other common medical tools. She placed a sterile disposable cap over the specula and examined the inside of the Empress' ears, she felt around her neck checking if her lymph nodes were swollen or inflamed (they were not), her blood pressure was checked, a thermometer was placed in her mouth and she was asked to kindly remove her dress just enough for the doctor to check her heartbeat and breathing.

"Is this really necessary?" Fala asked while reaching her hand behind her to unlace the bodice of her gown. "Everything else feels fine, it's just my stomach."

The doctor helped her remove the dress and loosen the corset she wore underneath it. "I'm just being thorough." She said. "If there is something seriously wrong with you and I don't catch it I might as well just shoot myself up with all these wonderful drugs I have on hand and save that husband of yours the trouble of killing me." She said this with a smile as if it were an amusing joke. Fala did not find it so.

"He's so cruel and despicable. I hate him!"

"Ya know, I hear there's a club you can join for that." Now that _was_ a joke and the Empress allowed herself a small smile. It was comforting to be reminded that she was not alone in her loathing of the vile half-breed Emperor. "Alright, its blood-test time and then you get to pee in a cup! Won't that be fun?"

Fala grimaced. The doctor took her left arm in her hands and began swabbing the inside of her elbow with anti-septic.

"You have the oddest bed-side manner of any doctor I've ever met." The Empress commented.

The woman shrugged. "I'm a wise-cracking surgeon with a dark sense of humor." A needle was inserted into Fala's arm and she had to look away as the chamber began to fill with blood. "I used to be allot nicer before Earth was taken. I guess I lost a bit of empathy in the slave pins."

"I'm sorry." The Empress muttered, and she truly was. The boys had all been slaves of the Galra Empire before crashing on Altea. They did not like to talk about it but she would see the scars from their time in bondage. Not just the scars on their bodies, most notable of which were the brands on their forearms, but the emotional and psychological scars too. She wondered sometimes if that was why Kogane sometimes seemed withdrawn… like he had lost a bit of his empathy…

The needle was withdrawn from Fala's arm and carefully labeled. The woman turned from her patient to the Galran doctor whom still sat in his chiar, silently pretending he wasn't watching them. She barked something at him in Galran and he glared at her.

"Oy, Robbie, wanna make yourself useful and get started on testing this for me?" She held up the Empress' blood sample.

"I do not take orders from you, _slave_." He growled back. "And I'll thank you to stop mangling my name!"

Fala's doctor ignored his second remark instead replying, "Okay. I just thought His Eminence would like to know what's wrong with his wife-_ardan_-person sooner rather than latter. But if you wanna keep him waiting, I suppose that's fine."

Galran skin-tones do not change, their scales remain the same color and shade no matter what, however, if they could have changed color the Galran doctor would have turned a bright beet-red at the human's words. He grabbed the blood sample from her hand and stormed from the room.

"Thanks, you're a doll!" She called after him in mock sweetness.

The doctor helped Fala right her gown before handing her a plastic cup and pointing her toward a cramped restroom that was little more than a closet with plumbing. "Alright, Your Majesty, time to pee in the cup. I'll be right outside if you need anything."

Fala nodded and closed the door behind her. When she was done she handed the now full cup to her doctor. "How long will the tests take?"

"Not very." The woman answered. "Galran medical science is _way_ ahead of what I was used to back on Earth!"

"May I wait here?" The Empress asked none to keen on the idea of going back to Sincline so soon.

"Sure." The doctor shrugged.

"I never did catch your name before."

"Naisha." She said. "I've got to run this over to the lab, but I'll be right back."

Doctor Naisha vanished through the same door that the Galran doctor had. As promised she was not gone long and quickly returned, looking harassed yet still smiling. "Its so fun poking at him knowing he can't do anything about it because I'm under the Emperor's protection."

"Is that why you call him 'Robbie'?" The Empress asked.

"That, and its just easier." Naisha shrugged. "His real name's Robline, or something like that. 'Robbie' is just so much easier and it drives him crazy."

Fala was about to comment that taunting a Galran never a wise idea and warn her that while she may have the Emperor's protection she could still be killed in the heat of anger. The Galran people were physically superior to humans (loath as Fala was to admit it) and something that might be simple smack to them could run the possibility of breaking a human's neck. She did not voice any of this, however. She assumed that as a slave the doctor would have already learned that and didn't need to be reminded of the fact. Instead the Empress said, "'Naisha' is a bit of an odd name."

The doctor just shrugged. "Not odd, just ethnic. I'm black-American, or at least I was back when America still existed, and we have a habit of giving our kids exotic sounding names like that, 'Naisha', 'Shantelle', 'De'jannett'… But I supposed to a person who comes from a planet that's 97% white and has only one unifying culture it would sound a bit strange."

Fala suddenly felt as if she'd just been called 'un-worldly' and wasn't sure if she was insulted by it or not. Instead, however, she commented, "Earth must have been such a diverse place before Galra attacked it."

"It was." Naisha agreed, her mood suddenly turning downcast. "I miss it."

"I miss Altea." Fala muttered.

The two women sat in silence for a time, sharing each other's homesickness and melancholy while wallowing in their own. Misery loved company, as the saying went, and they found each other to be very adequate company.

Their silence remained unbroken until Doctor Robline returned with the blood-test results. He picked up the datapad he had been reading from previously and ejected his disk to insert the test results. This he passed to Naisha.

"Thanks, Robbie." She smiled.

He glared.

Naisha perused the document before looking back up at her Galran colleague. "Have you confirmed this with the results from the urine test?"

"The results are being processed now." He replied, annoyance dripping from his voice. He had graduated from one of the finest medical academies in the Empire and did not take kindly to being treated as a lowly lab-tech by what he viewed as an inferior human slave.

"What?" Fala blinked at them. Her Galran was getting rather good but she still didn't understand what they were talking about. "What's going on? Am I dying?"

"Well, yes. But only because you're alive." Naisha replied, once again showing off that morbid sense of humor of hers. "But no, Your Majesty, you're not in any immediate danger of dying."

The Empress crossed her arms over her chest in displeasure, the idea of dying so far from home was not to her liking, but the idea of dying and being free of Sincline was _very_ appealing. "Well, then?"

The woman fidgeted a moment. "I'm not really sure if I should offer you my congratulations or condolences." She confessed.

"His Eminence certainly doesn't waste any time." Robline snorted.

Naisha turned on him. "Out you. This is girl talk." She attempted to push the Galran man away and back towards the lab door. It was like pushing a brick wall and he did not budge an inch until the woman gave up. Only then did he offer a contemptuous smile and walk out.

The doctor then focused all her attention on her patient. "What this is telling me, Your Majesty," she passed the datapad to the Empress so that Fala could read the results for herself, "is that you are most likely pregnant."

"What! How!"

Sincline had said he was sterile. She couldn't be pregnant. The tests were wrong. Either that or he lied to her. He lied to her! That was it! That must be it! Fala didn't know why she was so surprised; he had always been a lying bastard.

"Well, you see Your Majesty, when a man and a woman-"

"I know _how_!" The Empress snarled. "I just… I mean… he lied to me! The bastard lied to me!"

The doctor didn't quite know what she was talking about but her displeasure was expected and understandable.

"What am I gonna do now…?" Tears began to well up in her big blue eyes and she burst into sobs. "What am I gonna do…?"

Naisha didn't know what to say. She had lost a great deal of her bedside manner during her bondage as a slave and wasn't sure how to offer comfort anymore. She gave Fala a soft pat on the shoulder and hoped the small gesture would help.

"Get rid of it." The Empress growled, raising her head. The woman respectfully removed her hand thinking that was what she was referring to. "You're a doctor, right. You can get rid of it! Kill it! Make it gone! I don't want it!"

"Your Majesty, are you asking me to perform an abortion?"

"Yes. Can you do it? You can do it, right!" Her eyes, still shining with tears, looked suddenly bright and hopeful. "Sincline doesn't have to know. It'll be our little secret, you and me."

"And Robbie." Naisha added. "He saw the results of the blood-test too and is double checking with your urine sample right now. And I can promise you that he _will_ tell Sincline. What do you think His Eminence would do when he learns that you were pregnant with his child, his _heir_, but aborted the fetus?"

Fala suddenly sobered. "What am I gonna do?"

"I'm sorry to say, I don't really think you have much of an option in this matter." The doctor confessed. "If you want my advice, I suggest you tell him, it will mean more to hear it from you rather than one of us. Explain your feelings and ask him for his consent to abort it. If he really does care about you as he claims to maybe he'll do it."

"He doesn't care about me." The Empress growled, one hand going to her throat as if running her hands over a phantom collar. "I'm just another one of his little whores."

Once again Naisha didn't know what to say to offer comfort.

Robline returned with the results of the second test. He handed the datadisk to Naisha. "Second test confirms." He glanced at the Empress with her tear-streaked face, a sneer forming on his face. "You should be honored, Your_ Majesty_. The single most powerful man in the galaxy has chosen you as the vessel to continue blood-line of Eliindaal."

This did nothing to improve Fala's outlook on the matter. She did not want to contribute to the continuation of a family line of murderers, marauders, rapists and invaders. She had been more than happy to hear Sincline claim to be sterile, that his despicable bloodline would end with him. But he had lied to her and now she had his vile demon-spawn growing inside her like a parasite. The Empress burst back into tears.

"Ugh." Robline had no patience for humans and their pathetic feelings. Usually he would punish a human for such a display, slaves had no business feeling sorry for themselves, it was their duty to serve the Galran people and the Empire. But this woman was not a slave, she was the Emperor's wife and _ardan _and Empress of the Galra Empire. To reprimand her would be treason. So, he left. He was not her doctor and was not required to stay and as the slave Naisha had said, this was 'girl talk'.

"You have to tell him." The woman pressed. "It will mean more to hear it from you. Do you want me to go with you?"

Fala did not want to talk to him at all. She wanted to be back home of Altea, to wake up and find out that this was all some long terrible nightmare. But she couldn't. This was real and she had to deal with it. It would be nice to have Naisha there for moral support but she also didn't want to risk there being any other possible victims in the room when she spoke with him. She had a tendency to drive him into rages and while he had never caused her any permanent harm in the heat of his anger she was sure he would have no such inhibitions about hurting or even killing the Earthling doctor.

"No." The Empress shook her head. "I… I'll tell him on my own. I'm a big girl."

"Alright then." Naisha passed the second datadisk to her. "Her are the test results incase he wants to see them."

Fala took the disk and stood. She was reluctant to leave. This was all a huge shock and still wasn't convinced it was true. He had said he was sterile and she had believed him. She couldn't be pregnant. But then again, he was a world-class liar. He had been lying to her when he told her that and so of course she was pregnant. Neither of them had taken any sort of contraceptive precautions. They were like idiot teenagers. No, she was like an idiot teenager. He had known full well what he was doing. He had lied to her in order to make sure she kept sleeping with him. The evil conniving self-serving vile _bastard_!

These thoughts continued as she made her way back up to the royal residential suits.

If he had been lying to her then he must have had reason to lie. Except that he was probably so used to lying by this point in his life that he didn't know _how_ to tell the truth. A child of hers would be the rightful heir to the Altean throne as well as the Galran one; perhaps he had hoped that a child of theirs would end the conflict over her planet. The resistance there would have to acknowledge the Empire as their ruling body. It would solidify the Empire's control over the planet and significantly weaken support for the Leo Alliance.

It also meant that Golion would become the rightful property of the Galra Empire…

Or perhaps he had thought that carrying his child would make her come around to him. That maybe she would soften up to him if she were pregnant with his unwanted and vile offspring. It was just another dastardly method of manipulation. What a despicable man!

These were the thoughts running through her mind when the lift opened out onto the royal residential floor.

Sincline was attempting to read in his study, the door unlocked and open waiting for his wife to return. He highly doubted that her current state of illness had been caused by his afrodesiac, as he had said before: it was tailor made for use on female humans of Fala's same general height, weight and age. None of the women in this Collection ever seemed to develop an illness from taking it. It couldn't have been the aphrodisiac.

But at the same time, he knew his own excuse of a vitamin deficiency was pretty flimsy as well. First of all, nausea was not a symptom of vitamin deficiency, he was never trained in medicine but even he knew that. He supposed it could be the food. Fala just wasn't used to Galran cuisine (although, he had made the castle chief adjust his recipes for her omnivorous human diet). But if it were the food then this would have occurred much earlier on, her first week or so on the planet, not now, over a month later. So it must be something else.

His mind then jumped to food poisoning, which made him consider just poisoning in general. A possible assassination attempt? But no, that would have been much more sudden and manifested much quicker. It would not have slowly built over time as this illness had.

A virus then? The stomach flu, perhaps? Yes, that was probably it! Although, the flu virus which in common in humans and very easily transmitted was almost completely wiped from the face of planet Galra. No new human slave it allowed to touch a foot off their slave-ship without being properly immunized. Nothing breaks a slave-based economy quicker than having your slave-population drop dead from a virus. Not to mention that disease would be catastrophic if it ever mutated and jumped species! So it wasn't likely the stomach flue.

Except that Fala hadn't been a slave when she was brought to Galra, she was his father's hostage…

But she was still human. Daibazaal would have taken the same precautions with her before allowing her to set foot on his home world… right?

The Emperor suddenly wondered if, in addition to having an ill wife, he might also suddenly have to deal with an outbreak among his slave-population.

This fear, however, was pushed aside to be replaced with this original worry the moment he heard his wife's delicate footfall in the doorway.

Her eyes were red and puffy when she entered, as if she's been crying; she clutched a datapad to her breasts and clenched a second datadisc in her hand. Her shoulders trembled with barely contained emotion when she looked at him and he instantly feared the worst. The Emperor tossed his book down on the desk and rushed to her side.

"Fala, what-"

His query was cut short when she smacked him across the face and smacked him _hard_. She had never struck him that hard before. As fragile as humans were she must have hurt her own hand more than she had hurt him and he decided not to reprimand her for it this one time.

"_You lied to me_!" She screeched, tears once again welling from her eyes. "You evil son of a bitch! You lied! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! You said you were sterile! You said I couldn't get pregnant from you! But you lied! You bastard, _you lied_!"

Sincline stood frozen. "Pregnant?"

Fala sank to her knees, sobbing.

'_Pregnant…_' That had not even entered his mind as a possibility. He was a half-breed and as a general rule of biology half-breeds were sterile. He couldn't have fathered a child on her.

"Get up." Her husband ordered. She didn't move. "Get up!" He said a second time reaching down to grab her wrist. He pulled his sobbing wife to her feet. "You're not pregnant."

She didn't say anything in response, just flung the datapad and disc at him. The devices hit him in the chest and clattered to the floor. The Emperor picked the pad up with his free hand and scanned the information displayed on the screen. He suddenly felt his ire rise at the information and his focus then shifted back to his wife.

"You treacherous little slut." He growled, releasing her wrist and backing up a step. He didn't like hurting her as a general rule but at the moment he felt like her could kill her. Her husband made sure he was well beyond striking range when he asked, "Who is he?"

"What?" She blinked up at him in confusion.

"Who is he?" Sincline demanded. "The father of your child. Its not me, I'm sterile. You know I am. Did you honestly think you could convince me it was mine? Who's your secret lover?"

He watched an expression of pained confusion dance across her face and he marveled at what a wonderful actress she was. Of course, she had been concealing an illicit affair from him for an unknown time, so of course she must be a skilled player.

"Wha… but there's no one." The Empress whimpered. "I haven't slept with anyone but you. Ever. You know that! When would I even have had time to have an affair? You told me you were sterile, but you lied to me. You lied to me!"

"I _am_ sterile!" He snarled back. "Don't try and lie to my face so obviously. A child is undeniable proof that you've been seeing another man behind my back. Now tell me who he is!"

"There is no one else!" She insisted. "Its yours! _You_ lied to _me_!"

The two glared at each other.

"You're a lying bitch, Fala." He growled from low in the back of his throat. It was a feral guttural sound and made the Empress think more of a wild beast rather than a villainous despot. He closed the distance between them again and picked her up, throwing her over his should like a sack of rice. "I'm going to prove your little bastard belongs to someone else. And then you're going to tell me who he is so I can kill him."

He carried her back to the same infirmary she had just left and threw her down unceremoniously on an examining table.

"I demand a paternity test!" He roared not bothering to wait for the human doctor to offer him her submission.

"At once, Your Eminence." She bowed and then shot the Empress a look that silently asked, '_What did you say?_'

…


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Nineteen:

_In panoply of ancient kings,_

_In chained rings he armored him;_

_His shining shield scored with sigiled rings_

_To ward all wounds and harm from him;_

_His sword glowed blue and brilliant,_

_An Eldain blade forged of lazon ore;_

_It felled his enemies most defiant_

_Thus he was when gone to tour._

_Among the gods he was favored,_

_There flying Angmaal came to him;_

_Eliindaal's courage then wavered,_

_A destiny was bound to him_

_And crowned him with living might;_

_And dauntless with burning brow_

_He asked the Doom god for his fate;_

_It was then that Angmaal said with a bow,_

'_The tribes of Galra many and mighty_

_But are scattered by friendless bickering;_

_The god-King wishes them be one people rightly,_

_You shall be his champion glimmering;_

_Your will is strong, forged in reckless fire,_

_Your skills matched by none save the gods' own;_

_Forge for the gods a Galra Empire.'_

- An excerpt from _The Tale of Eliindaal_ as recounted by Telira _ni Numrah_ in the First Age of the Galra Empire.

_Among all of Eliindaal's harem, Leania was most favored by the great conqueror. And she bore for him a son, Narhline. But though he was favored by his father the king, it was his brother, Isiline, whom was named their father's heir. Isiline was born of the king's wife and though he was younger than Narhline by a count of years none could contest the young Prince Imperial's claim. But Isiline was also ill-liked by the gods and doom quickly found him. Eliindaal grieved for his son, for while he was not the favored one he was still well loved. In his hour of grief Angmaal, god of Doom and Destiny, once again appeared before the king._

'_Do not grieve the loss of Isiline.' Said he. 'For he now sits in the halls of your fathers in the Otherworld. Do not look to what you have lost but remember that which is still with you. One son you still have, your line is not broken. Favored by the god-King you are and Menagroth blesses those that he favors. Narhline shall be king after you are gone and your line will never perish from the world. Though Eliindaal is mortal the blood of Eliindaal shall be eternal and one day stretch your great Empire to the stars.'_

_The great king knew that these words were true for Angmaal was god of Destiny and when he spoke it was not prideful boasting of Menagroth's might but Prophecy to be heeded. Thus it was Narhline, son of the harem slave, which succeeded his father as Emperor_.

- Transcribed from the _Annals of Galraprima_ in the Second Age of the Galra Empire, in the year seven after the Great Cataclysm (7 A.G.C.).

_Legends and histories are funny things. An account of an event written by one who lived it could be called a 'historical document' for the decades (or even a whole century) following said event. However, there then comes a point when society comes to regard it, not as a reliable historical source, but rather just another ancient legend. The many tales of Eliindaal Galraprima, First Emperor of Galra, are some such documents. _

_While there is physical evidence to prove that most of the events of his life did, in fact, take place the majority of his legends can (and should) be discarded as fantasy. Most notable of these are his numerous conversations with the gods and their messengers. Whether one is religious or not it must be pointed out that his is the only tale in Galran history where the gods not only reveal themselves to a mortal but also take an active interest in him. It is a characteristic unique to Eliindaal's stories and no others. _

_A possible explanation for this is rather simple, however. No person before him had ever conceived of the idea of uniting the thirteen tribes under one rule before. Certainly warlords had tried to conquer one another, but none had even though to dominate them all. Remembering the superstitious mentality of the time, it is understandable that they would think such an idea had not come from Eliindaal himself but rather was a revelation or divine mission from the gods. _

_[…] The prophecy of the 'eternal blood-line' is another logical fallacy of early Galran thinking. Of course the Imperial blood-line would continue almost into infinitum. As ruler of the entire planet the Emperor would never be short of willing women with which to sire heirs on. It's a simple matter of numbers, the Emperor and his Princes (when they came of age) would no doubt sire more heirs and perspective heirs than war, intrigue or assassination could dispose of. Ergo, the bloodline would always continue. Nothing supernatural about it._

- An excerpt from "_A Rational Study of Eliindaal_" by Emering _fin Argavin_ (1956 A.G.C. – 2008 A.G.C.), published in the year two-thousand and eight after the Great Cataclysm (2008 A.G.C.).

_What my colleague, Emering, conveniently leave out of his somewhat bias 'study' of Eliindaal and specifically his Eternal Bloodline is that our current Emperor, the great Daibazaal (whom has claimed no title) did not produce an heir until the latter half of his reign. This was not from lack of 'willing bed-partners' as my colleague would imply, but rather, (and this is just theory, mind you) the gods were waiting. Angmaal did say that the Empire would 'stretch beyond the stars' and we have succeeded in fulfilling the Destiny god's prophecy. _

_However, now that we have reached the stars and are continuing to expand we are also needing to adapt. New slaves, new foods, new weapons, new treasures are flowing into our fair capitol every day. But along with them come new problems. The gods know that and, in their infinite wisdom, know that we cannot continue to be as we have always been. That is why they have given our great Emperor the young Prince Sincline. He is the combination of our great Empire's Eternal Blood-line of Eliindaal and that of an alien woman. A cross-genus hybrid such as he could not exist if not by the will of the gods and the gods do nothing without purpose. _

_Prince Imperial Sincline, future Emperor Sincline will be as a new Eliindaal and unite the tribes of the stars under one rule. As it was in the First Age it shall be again, the son of a slave shall sit upon the Golden Throne as Emperor._

- Taken from a pamphlet circulated shortly after the publication of Emering _fin Argavin_'s book, author unknown (2008 A.G.C.).

…

"Test it again." Sincline growled. He stood with his arms crossed, his feet set and his features set in a seemingly permanent scowl of displeasure. As demanded, Fala's human doctor had run a paternity test on the fetus within her, but the results had shown that it was his and the couldn't be so. After the second time the results came back the same, however, he decided that the human must be lying to protect Fala and (after giving the woman a severe beating) he called in his own doctor.

Robline had taken new samples and run new tests, but even he showed that the child was the Emperor's. They had been going through this for several hours now and everyone was exasperated, but still the Emperor persisted. For reason's unknown to the Galran doctor he maintained that the child couldn't be his.

"Your Eminence, we have tested it several times already. The results will not change, I assure you." He said this with a low apologetic bow of submission that did little to placate the Emperor's mood.

"I told you." The Empress muttered from her seat on the examining table.

"You be silent!" Her husband snarled. He pinched the bridge of his nose where a stress headache had been throbbing for the past hour. He had already taken several pills for it, but the headache refused to go away. "Test. It. Again."

Doctor Robline sighed in resignation and once again disappeared into the lab to run what must have been the tenth test with what must have been the eighth samples. The doctor had no idea why the Emperor would continue to maintain that it _couldn't_ be his. While he did not care to be ruled by a human woman for an Empress he had heard no rumor of infidelity on her part, nor did he think any man could have snuck in at any point. The Emperor was to careful with whom was allowed to see her and her Guard Captain was to good at her job for any secret lovers to slip through.

Alone again in the infirmary, Fala studied her husbands scowling face, the tight set of his shoulders, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He was radiating nothing but hostility and unbridled fury. He actually did believe that he was sterile.

"Sincline…" She ventured, unsure if it was safe to call attention to herself or not. He had not laid a hand on her since dumping her on the examining table on which she still sat and, in fact, had tried to keep as far a distance from her as he could in the small room.

"Are you ready to tell me the name of your little bastard's father?" He snarled at her.

She flinched at the harshness of his voice and the venom in his words. But slid off the examining table and crossed the room to him all that same, trusting in the fact that he claimed to care for her than she would not be severely harmed.

"Yes." She whispered, soft gentle hands reached up to cradle his face and she stood on the tips of her toes trying to close the distance between their eye-levels. He made no move to help her close the distance and so it was to his chin that she said, "His name is Sincline _Hangalra_, son of Daibazaal and Emperor of the Galra Empire."

"You lie." He pushed her away.

Off balance she clattered to the floor, but buttocks painfully impacting on the hard tiles.

"I'm not _you_!" She snarled back up at him, blue eyes blazing. "I don't lie as easily as I breathe. You said you were sterile and I believed you! I can't believe I believed you."

"Half-breeds are sterile, Fala." He growled back at her. "Every grade-schooler knows that!"

"Yeah, and mammals and reptiles aren't suppose to be able to cross-breed either." She shot back. "Every grade-schooler knows _that_ too! According to any biological-science you use, you should not exist but you do. Obviously, biology doesn't apply here, so why are you even trying to apply it? Go ask a witch if you're sterile. I'm sure they could give you some magical reason why you're _not_!"

He opened his mouth as if to speak but no words came out. He glared down at her, his golden eyes smoldering with un-channeled emotion. She pulled herself to her feet and met his gaze, not willing to back down. She had done no wrong and she refused to be treated as if she had. After long moments of their staring contest Sincline gave up and left, slamming the infirmary door as he did so. Fala flinched at the sound but was relieved that he was gone.

Robline reentered not long after that with the results from the latest test that were no different from the pervious ones. He glanced around the room in confusion. "He left?"

"Yes." The Empress muttered, not looking at him.

The doctor sighed. None of this made any sense to him but then again, the Emperor's moods have always been capricious, even when he was child he was mercurial and volatile.

…

Sincline slammed the door to his chambers with nearly enough force to shake the door from its hinges. He strode over to his liquor cabinet and, selecting a bottle of _yarbara_, took a long gulping swig of the blood-wine.

He wasn't sure what to think anymore. His whole world had suddenly been turned upside down. For almost all his adult life he had been sure that he was incapable of fathering a child. After all, none of the women in his Collection had ever become pregnant. Every night he'd been having sex since puberty almost, and _nothing_. Nothing before now. He bangs Fala for a couple of weeks and suddenly boom! '_You're a father!_'

"This is bullshit!" He snarled aloud.

As his wife had said on the night she refused to be his _ardan_, it was to soon. If he had known precautions would have been taken. He was just starting to enjoy her the way he wanted to and now he had to share her. The gods must be punishing him for something. The gods! He suddenly remembered his words to Fala that night, 'It would take an act of the gods…'

Sincline did not consider himself to be a religious man, he believed the gods existed and he offered them worship every now and again, but he was certainly not what you would call 'devout'. But just because he did not pay much attention to _them_ did not mean that they weren't watching _him_. After all, it was by their will that he was even born in the first place. As Fala so kindly pointed out a few moments ago: he should not exist. Of course the gods would keep tabs on him and certain gods might take his words spoken that night as a challenge.

'It would take an act of the gods…' Well, the gods had acted and now he had to live with the consequences. "What kind of deus ex machina bullshit is this?"

His question went unanswered, however. The gods had not spoken to a mortal since the days of Eliindaal (assuming they had ever spoken to him in the first place), so of course they would not come down to explain a few things to him. In fact, they probably thought his cluelessness over this situation was fucking hilarious.

Sincline took another swig of wine and stormed back out of his room. The shrine was at the end of the hall. He rarely went in there, his father had never put much emphasis on religion and Sincline sometimes wondered if (before he was born) if Daibazaal had been an Atheist. He had always scoffed at any mention of the gods and reminded the prince not to 'fall for any of the superstitious non-sense'. Yeah, 'cause it was totally 'superstitious non-sense' when a reptile-mammal hybrid is born or when a sterile half-breed somehow manages to father a child.

He glared at the statue of Menagroth in the center of the room. "What's your game?" He demanded. "What do you want from me?"

The statue offered noting in reply. It was made of stone and, in fact, could not speak. Sincline let out a groaning sigh of exasperation and sank to the floor before the god-King. "What am I gonna do?"

He did not want to be a father. He had never thought he would and so had never planned for it. He had had a plan for when the time came for him to name an heir, but that had nothing to do with having a child of his own. His entire life plan was suddenly thrown out the window and Sincline had no idea what to do. He felt a bit like an idiot teenager at the moment and did not like it.

He took another sip of his wine and wondered exactly what he was going to do.

…

Fala didn't want to return to her rooms on the residential floor for fear that her husband would be there. But she really had no other place to go within Demon Castle and had no real friends to confide in. With a heavy heart she entered the lift that would take her back to her chambers.

She saw no sign of Sincline when she stepped off into the corridor and breathed a small sigh of relief. She dashed to her rooms and locked the door behind her.

The Empress sat for long moments in silence, her mind reeling from the evening's events. So much to process in such a short time. She still couldn't believe it, not really. Everything had happened so fast she wasn't sure if it wasn't some vivid nightmare. One moment she had been sick all over the floor, then suddenly in the infirmary being told she was pregnant, and then Sincline was yelling, accusing her of having an affair, then back to the infirmary again. Unreal. All of it just seemed unreal.

But it was real.

She didn't want to believe it, but all her symptoms suddenly made so much more sense now! In fact, if Sincline hadn't claimed to be sterile before it would have been the first thing to pop into her mind.

'_Fala, what a fool you are._' She reprimanded herself. '_What am I going to do now?_'

Yes, what was she going to do? While she wanted nothing more than to get away from this awful place and return home to Altea she was painfully aware that that would be impossible now. Sincline was still in socked denial, but as soon as he came around to the reality of their situation he'd be twice as cautious with her as he was now. If she managed some how to slip out of the castle he would hunt her until she and his child were returned safely to Demon Castle. And if Kogane and the Golion team came to rescue her…

'_Kogane…'_

Fala buried her face in her hands. An image rose to the surface of her imagination. Black Lion tearing a wide hole through Demon Castle's walls, her beloved Kogane jumping out and racing through the halls in search of her, screaming her name in desperation to find his lost princess. He burst through the doors to her chambers and froze at the sight that he would see. Fala sitting on her sofa nursing an infant child with Sincline's blue skin and golden eyes... She would look up, her eyes shining with unshed tears...

'_Kogane... I'm sorry_.'

It seemed the sorrowful vision would come to be a prophecy of doom for her now. She was carrying Sincline's child and he would never allow the Golion team to take her or it from him. He did not like to louse and he did not like other people touching his things. If she was rescued, if she was returned to Altea her husband would fallow like the very devil on their heals and once he got her back he would destroy the Golion team and possibly the super-robot as well. He would destroy her planet down to the last blade of grass as retribution for attempting to take her from him.

No, in her heart now Fala knew she could never leave this place. Demon Castle and planet Galra were her home now. The Altean-born Empress knew this and despaired.

…

Sincline had gone through several stages of communion with the gods. The first was angry ranting and accusations that they were tormenting him with not other purpose but their own entertainment. Then he had switched to fearful and apologetic, apologizing to the gods for his behavior and asking their forgiveness. After that he reminded himself that they were only statues and have no supernatural powers over him, he called himself a fool for falling into such a ridiculous trap of superstitious non-sense. The, realizing how much he sounded like his father in that moment, switched back to the apologetic petitioner asking for pardon. After that was self-depredating humor, he laughed at himself and the way he had been acting and though how amusing he must appear to the gods with all the non-sense he was babbling.

This continued on for several hours, his switching from anger, to fearful, to skeptic, to apologetic, to amused… finally he settled on accepting but apprehensive. He muttered a brief prayer to Vianya, goddess of sex and fertility; thanking her for the gift she had given him and promising that while he did not appreciate it right now, he would try to in the future. Then to Maltessak, god of parenthood; asking for strength. Then one to Aradianya begging for Fala to requite his feelings for her now that she was to be mother of his child. And finally, a prayer to Angmaal, god of doom and destiny, asking him to kindly keep his divine nose out of other people's business.

He exited the shrine room mentally exhausted and slightly tipsy. He had managed to drink the entire bottle of yarbara in there and swayed slightly as he walked back to his own chambers.

He dumped the empty wine bottle in the sitting room waste bin and staggered through the door to his bedroom to flop down on his bed. He pulled his boots off and threw them hap-hazardly in the general direction of his closet before crawling under the covers still clothed and falling asleep.

It was several hours after that that he woke up again, he had not rested that long and was still tired, but he hated sleeping in his clothes and rolled out of bed to strip them off. He remembered how Fala would watch him when he would strip in front of her. How, to spite her protests, her eyes would follow his movements and rove over his exposed body. She at least found him a pleasure to look at, why couldn't she segue that into an emotional connection. That was how his feelings for her had started. Looks first, feelings later. Wasn't that how most relationships worked?

Well, she could be content to just look for a while, because as fragile as she was and now that she was pregnant on top of that, he didn't plan to touch her! He would not dose her with the aphrodisiac anymore for fear that it might harm the child and without it their coupling would return to what it had been before, when he was still convinced he could impress her into caring for him with his bedroom skills. She had always come away from those encounters injured in some way and he would not do that to her while she was pregnant. Not when he could run the risk of hurting not only his wife but his child as well.

…His child…

The idea was still just a bit to much for him to believe right now. He had thought himself to be infertile, incapable of fathering children for so long that he wasn't sure if it were really real or not. He wondered if this were how his father had felt when he had learned that a human slave was carrying his child, or if the old bastard had even cared at all.

Sincline paused in unlacing the fly of his pants. He once again thought of the comparison between his mother and Fala. The two resembled each other in appearance and now their lives were paralleling as well. The Emperor retied his fly and exited his chambers heading for his private study. He dug his mother's picture out of his desk and scrutinized it.

It was not a holo, but rather a paper printout from one of her files. When Sincline had been younger he pestered his father about her until the old man had finally dug up and printed out a picture of her to placate his nagging child. Sincline had thought she was the most beautiful person in the world when he first saw her. At that time he failed to see the sadness in her eyes. He wondered what it was like for her, what her life was like as the mother of the heir apparent. If only he could have spoken with her once. He had no memory of her, she had died when he was so young.

"I wish you were here now." He told the picture. "For myself and for Fala."

For Fala… He had no idea what this pregnancy would do to Fala. He was confident that it wouldn't kill her; his mother had apparently survived him (only to be killed by his father an undisclosed time later), but what other damage might it cause her? There were no textbooks on interspecies breeding because, aside from him (and now Fala's child) it doesn't happen. Where would they go for help and advice and information? The only other person in existence that had gone through it was dead. If only his mother had kept a journal or… or his father's scientists had kept files!

Of course they did! It was a medical marvel, an impossible occurrence, every doctor, scientist and researcher in the Empire would want to study her! They must have kept records of their research! Hadn't his very picture of her come from a file?

Sincline dashed from his study back downstairs to the Executive Library where official records and classified documents were kept. The clerk on duty was dozing at his desk when the Emperor entered, startling the man. He blinked at him, barefooted and shirtless and asked, "Your Eminence, how may I be of ser-"

"Give me all the files on the slave Nienor Hurin." He commanded.

The clerk was slow in following the direction, still groggy from his nap. He returned to the desk carrying two trays of datadisks, which he extended to the Emperor.

"This is all of it?" He asked.

"Yes, Your Eminence." The clerk nodded.

Sincline took the files and retreated back to the royal residential floor and barricaded himself in his rooms to read.

…

(A/N: Perhaps I should reverse the genres for this fic from "Drama/Angst" to "Angst/Drama". That does seem slightly more fitting, wouldn't you say?)


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Twenty:

The Emperor woke that morning by rolling off his sofa and falling face-first on the floor.

"Son of a bitch!" He swore as the feeling of falling punctuated by his nose breaking the fall shocked him to full wakefulness.

Groggily, Sincline climbed to his feet, feeling his nose to see if it was broken. It was not, not even bleeding. He glanced at the trays of datadiscs he'd been reading the previous night and was painfully reminded of last night's revelations. Too much. It was just too much for a person to take in at once, it almost felt unreal, like some sick horrible practical joke. He still wasn't sure if he believed it. Picking up his datapad from where it had fallen when he rolled off the couch, Sincline tossed it on the coffee table next to the discs. He would continue to study them, but later. Having the details of his mother's life described to him in disinterested medical jargon with explicit detail just wasn't something he'd like to do first thing in the morning.

Instead he walked through the bedroom to his bathroom to relieve himself. Stepping back out he glanced at the chronometer over his bed's headboard, noting that it was sixth hour. He might as well go ahead and start his day. Back into the bathroom for a shower he went.

After a shower and a shave the Emperor dressed in simple trousers with a plain shirt. He was not in the mood for anything grand today. In fact, he would have been perfectly content to spend the whole of his day barricaded in his chambers butt-naked, but sadly, such a luxury was not possible for him. Once he was dressed he again glanced at his chronometer and noted that it was now half past seventh hour. Should he wake Fala?

They needed to talk. He had behaved poorly the previous night. Their situation was delicate and needed to be handled with greater forethought and care, he had not used either last night and Fala was the one who suffered the most from it.

It was early, she would still be sleeping. He should let her sleep. She was pregnant now and needed her rest. But they also needed to talk. Sincline sat on the edge of his bed and debated this until it turned to eighth hour, then he decided it was late enough to try waking his slumbering bride.

Fala was lovely, he thought. Laying on her side facing window, her lips slightly parted, one arm resting under her pillow, the other thrown carelessly over the blankets. Sprawled over her bed she looked breath taking, a regular 'sleeping beauty'. Sincline felt the sudden urge to reach out and touch her. He brushed a single stray strand of golden hair out of her face and back behind her ear, stroking his hand down her cheek affectionately.

Fala fluttered to wakefulness at the touch.

…

_Fala stood in the royal box overlooking the Arena. Below she beheld herself stripped bare and chained to a solid iron post in the center of the field. All around her monsters, villains and fiends pawed at her. Scratching, biting, gnawing, hacking, tearing, striking, beating. _

_From her perch in the royal box, the Empress watched Commander Sadak of the Black Army walk up to her Princess-self. The long dead Commander held her face in his massive clawed one and removed the bright red prosthetic eye from his face, a string of wires and tissues fallowing after it. These he wrapped around the Princess' head like a circlet before jabbing the artificial eye in her own. Empress Fala screamed from her balcony box but no sound passed her lips. _

_Honerva then stepped forward, weaving her way through the throng of vile creatures that continued to cleave her flesh from the bone. She grasped a locked of the Princess' long golden hair in shriveled and wrinkled old claw. _

'_Pretty… pretty…' She rasped before yanking the golden tresses hard enough to pull it from the root. Her main of flaxen hair was thrown to the ground and quickly trampled by the beasts that were slowly devouring her. _

'_Stop it!' The Empress shouted but still there was not sound in her voice. Her words fell mute upon her lips, never reaching the rout below. _

_Sincline then appeared on the field. Dressed in his black and blue price's raiment with the twin-axe battle helmet upon his head. The Empress had not seen him dressed like that since that cursed day upon the _Angband_, the day of his take-over. As much as she loathed the man, she was relieved by his appearance. He would stop this desecration of her. _

_The throng of beasts and villains did not part for their Prince, instead he was forced to weave his way through them as the others had. As he stood before her an evil smile spread over his deceptively fair features. She spoke but no sound was heard. He caressed the Princess' cheek with the back of his gloved hand, a soft and gentle action. Yet, where his hand passed her skin was broken and blood welled from it as if he'd cut her. He leaned in to kiss her lips and when he pulled away blood spilled from her mouth. The Prince continued a string of butterfly kisses down her chin and throat, then along her collarbone and everywhere his lips touched blood flowed freely._

'_Stop it! Stop it, you're killing me!' The Empress once again roared from the royal box and this time the barest of whispers croaked from her lips. But it was not loud enough to reach the Sincline below._

'_Did you say something, my darling?' _

_Fala turned to see her husband sitting in an ornately carved high-backed chair. He was not dressed in the blue and black uniform of the Sincline below, this Sincline wore a long black tunic with gold patterning on the collar, cuffs and hem, a blood-red cape was lazily thrown over his shoulder and atop his head rested the golden spiked crown of Galra. _

_The Empress fell on her knees at her husband's side. 'They're killing me, Sincline! You're killing me! Stop it! Please stop it!'_

'_Darling, these theatrics are hardly fitting for an Empress.' The Emperor replied, uncaring. _

Fala sobbed, glass tears falling from her eyes and shattering on the stone floor. She rose back to her feet and glared down at the scene below. She was dead now, Princess Fala was dead now. Her innocents, her naïveté, her childish belief that good always triumphed… was dead. All that was left now was Fala ni Altea, Empress of the Galra Empire.

_Another glass tear fell from her dry eyes and shattered on the balcony railing. Fala looked at the rail. She looked at the field below. She looked back at Sincline and smiled. _

'_What's in your head, dearest?' Her husband asked._

_The Empress gathered up her skirts and climbed up onto the railing. She stood facing the Emperor with her back to the Arena and… relaxed._

_Fala leaned back with a sigh as the stagnant air of the Arena began to rush past her ears. Her eyes were turned upwards at the eternally bleak cloud cover, a canopy of black and gray over a dead and dismal world. Something not quite dark drifted just behind, like a pale light behind a curtain of grey rain-clouds. But these clouds would give no rain. Her eyes focused on that small fragile light wishing she could fly up and catch it. She stretched out her arms at the light and it began to grow stronger, turning the veil to silver and quartz until it was rolled back and the bleak clouds gave way to a far green country below a bright and friendly noon sun. The Empress drifted down like a leaf caught in a breeze to land in a wide grassy meadow._

_Sunshine was all around her and it warmed her heart as it warmed her face. Off in the distance was a castle, not a twisted black tower or a cold metal battle fortress but a castle of brick and stone –the old Castle Gradam. This was Altea, she was home. Fala stretched out on the grass with a contented sigh. Everything was suddenly right with the world again._

'_Napping in the middle of the day, I see.' Said a voice that she had not heard in years and Fala opened her eyes with a startled flutter to behold her father sitting next to her._

'_Father!' She sat up in a bolt and hugged him ardently. _

'_Whoa!' King Raimon gasped for breath. 'Whoa girl, I'm glad to see you too.'_

_Reluctantly, Fala released her hold on her father. 'I missed you so much! So much has happened!'_

'_I know.' He nodded gravely. _

'_I… I'm sorry I couldn't protect Altea.' Tears once again fell from her eyes, wet salty tears, not glass that shattered when it fell. 'I tried so hard. Everyone tried so hard. But in the end I… I wasn't strong enough! I let them capture me! I let him force me to marry him! I let him… let him…'_

'_Shhh…' Raimon soothed his distressed daughter, once again taking her in his arms in a comforting hug. He stroked her hair but offered no words instead allowing her to speak her peace._

'_I hate my life. I wish this had never happened to me! It's not fair! My life's not fair!'_

_Raimon placed his hands on daughter's shoulders and forced her to look at him. 'No one is truly happy with the life fate deals them.' He said gently. 'Most people go through their lives content but that is all, _conten_t. Many others live their lives in misery, thinking they deserved more or better or just different. Very few are ever truly _happy_. Life it not an entirely joyous experience, but neither is it entirely sorrowful either. Good and ill exist in all things, my daughter; life is no different."_

'_I hate Sincline!' She cried suddenly. 'I hate him! I hate this fate I have been cursed with!'_

'"_Fate".' Raimon echoed thoughtfully. 'Fate, indeed. There is more than one power at work in this universe, my daughter. You would be with me and the rest of our kin now had he not saved you.'_

'_Saved me!'_

_Raimon nodded. 'Raible would have still surrendered had Sincline not taken control of the Empire. Altea would still be lost and the moment that happened, the moment you were no longer useful to him, Daibazaal would have killed you. Better to have you dead then under foot causing trouble. Though it may not be pleasant to hear, Sincline was _meant_ to overthrow his father, and you were _meant_ to marry him.'_

_Fala wrinkled her nose in displeasure. _

'_Don't make that face, my dear, its not lady-like.' Raimon laughed. 'Even the very wise cannot see all ends. I was meant to die under Galra's sword, you are meant to rule at its head. And let me tell you: that is an encouraging thought.' He reached over and stroked her cheek affectionately._

Fala fluttered to wakefulness at the touch.

Sincline stood over her; it was his hand she felt on her face. Startled, the Empress gasped and, acting purely on impulse, her hand flew up to smack him across the face. His soft features contorted in annoyance as he grabbed her wrist before she could withdraw it.

"Stop doing that!" He snarled. Fala tried to pull her wrist away but he held her firmly. "I have told you _several_ times already."

"_What are you doing here!" _The Empress snarled back, sitting up in bed. She tired a second time to pull her hand out of his grip. "Let go!"

To her great alarm, instead of complying with her request and releasing her wrist, Sincline wrapped his free arm around her waist and scooted her over enough for him to sit on the bed next to her. "I did not come here to fight with you."

Fala's heartbeat raced in sudden panic at that announcement. Did he mean he had come looking for a little morning sex? Was he going to force himself on her? The Empress, not wanting to show any weakness before her husband then snarled, "What _did_ you come here for?"

"I came to _talk_."

"That new." His wife scoffed.

Sincline suppressed the urge to snarl. She always insisted on being so damn _difficult_, always pushing him into saying or doing something that he would regret for hours (or even days) afterwards. No matter what it was, no matter how trivial the matter or important the detail, she never failed to provoke his ire. But this time he was trying to suppress it. This time the conversation was to important to be forgotten in the throws of a frustrated rage. By nature he was not a man of discipline and control, but on this morning he was really _trying_. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, counting to ten.

"We need to talk." He finally repeated.

"So talk."

"Ah… Are you well?" He began, suddenly unsure of what to say and feeling very uncomfortable about the subject. "The child… ah- our child… is well?"

"I guess." Fala replied, uncaring. She had no love for the creature that slept in her womb that the fact that Sincline was now showing an interest in it only made her loath it all the more. At least when he was maintaining that it wasn't his and cursing it she could have pitied the little monster. She tossed the blanked off her and tried to climb out of bed, but her husband's arm still around her waist pulled her back. "Let me go."

"I should have realized sooner." He said, melding her body against his in an unwelcome hug. "Your scent had changed but I couldn't recognize the implications. I've never really been around a pregnant human before and so didn't know what the particularities of your new scent meant. It's similar to your heat and at the same time very different. I didn't know what the 'very different' meant. Now I do."

"There's something fundamentally _wrong_ if the man can tell when a woman is pregnant before the woman herself is aware." Fala growled. She had never been comfortable with the idea that Sincline could know so very much about her just from smell alone. Her stomach churned. "Now let go of me."

"I like holding you." Her husband said by way of refusal and inhaled the scent of her hair. The shampoo she used made it smell of fruit and flowers but just under the fragrant mask of soap was her delicious feminine body odor, that tantalizing blend of feminine musk and perspiration that he found so alluring, and now accompanying it was a new layer. Something subtle and yet at the very same time bold and unmistakable that (now that he knew what it was) awoke something primal and protective within him.

"We're done talking then? You've said what you wanted to say? Fine. Thanks for sharing. _Now_ will you let go?" She tried once again without success to wriggle from his grip.

"No."

"I'm going to puke on you!" She threatened.

"Oh." His arm vanished from her waist.

Fala bolted from the bed and dashed to her bathroom. Sincline followed after her with a heavy sigh. He found his wife on her knees in front of the toilet bowl, retching violently. He knelt behind her and gathered her beautiful long flaxen hair in his hands to keep it out of her face and away from the danger of being soiled by her gorge.

"Is it always like this?" He asked when she was done.

Fala rested her head on the toilet bowl and Sincline made a mental note to make sure the slaves cleaned it extra well if his wife was going to do that every day. After a prolonged pause she answered, "Now, this wasn't so bad because I didn't eat anything last night."

A pang of guilt cut through her husband, his temper was partly to blame for that. "I'm sorry. I'll order a larger breakfast to make-up for it."

"No cooked vegetables." She muttered, her forehead still resting on the porcelain toilet bowl. "The smell of cooked vegetables makes me sick. So does citrus and most white meats like chicken." Fala said that last one lamentingly. White meant chicken had become her favorite meat since coming to live on Galra. Its flavor could be paired with anything and it was easily identifiable and difficult to confuse with anything else (visually speaking), when she saw chicken on her plate she was sure and comfortable that it was not people she was eating.

"The child likes red meat." Sincline said with a grin him his voice.

Fala inwardly cringed. She had not failed to notice that the majority of foods that made her sick also just happened to be foods her husband generally avoided. It hadn't even graduated out of embryo status and already the little beast was taking after its father. Groaning, the Empress climbed back to her feet and crossed the bathroom to the sink where she promptly began to wash her mouth out. After gargling and spitting several times she grabbed her toothbrush and began as much of her morning routine as she dared perform with Sincline standing behind her.

"By the way," she said around her toothbrush and a mouth full of frothy paste, "thank you for holding my hair back. I hate having to clean chunks out of it in the shower."

"Of course." He replied, stroking a hand through the golden locks affectionately. "I may not have much like for artists, but true _art_ should always be cared for. Whatever god made you, Fala, had a true appreciation for beauty."

She ignored his compliment and finished with her teeth. "You wake me up claiming we need to talk, yet you've said very little of any real importance, Sincline."

Fala began pulling a brush through her long shimmering hair.

"I… mostly I wanted to…" He paused as if this next word caused him some trouble. As if he weren't used to saying it. "I wanted to ap-pol-o-gize for my behavior last nigh."

"What?"

"I'm trying to _apologize_."

She dropped her brush in shock and whipped around to gape at him. "_What_! Who are you? My Sincline doesn't apologize for anything. My Sincline is convinced that he can do no wrong."

"Its not so strange." He growled, suddenly annoyed with her again. "I used to apologize to my father all the time. I'm no stranger to either apologies or begging for forgiveness and my life. I've just never had the need to do it in your language before."

"Oh, and I'm the first human you've ever apologized to? I'm honored." She mocked.

"Now that my father is dead, Fala, you are the _only_ person I will ever have to apologize to." He informed her, bending down to pick up her fallen hairbrush. "Turn around."

Obediently, Fala turned back around to face her mirror and watched her husband's reflection as he began to pull the brush through her main of golden waves.

"Your hair's so beautiful." He whispered. "Like flowing sunshine. You know, I didn't see sunlight until I was almost a man. I had just graduated from the Imperial Military Academy –top of my class, I might add- and my father made me come with him to planet Dorieth for some function or another. I don't remember. But it was high noon without a cloud in the sky when I stepped off the ship. Everything was so bright that I staggered blindly and nearly tripped over my father's cape."

At that his wife gave a snort. "I would have loved to see that. My favorite memory of you-" actually the only memory of him she even _liked_ "-will always be you tripping over a stone after you thought you had me cornered."

His face wrinkled in displeasure. "Yes, well… balance and grace are things not easily maintained when one has a raging boner between his legs."

"Isn't that, like, all the time for you?"

He made another face but deigned not to comment. Instead turning her attention back to her hair. "My point is: I don't want sunlight and clear skies to be alien sights to our child. My Empire is vast and any number of planets orbit yellow stars and can have clear weather on occasion."

"Like Altea."

His hand paused for the briefest of moments. "Yes, like Altea. We could take our child there from time to time. Call it a 'family holiday'."

Rather than lifting her spirits as he thought the prospect of being able to visit her beloved former home would do, Fala's expression fell downcast. He had said she could rule Altea with little interference from him after they'd been married for a year but he had forbade her from actually returning to it. He would have thought the idea of being able to go back would have excited her not depressed her.

She rested her hands on the marble counter, her eyes focused on the porcelain sink when she said, "I don't want this baby."

The brush stilled in her hair. Sincline was silent for long moments. Then, placing the brush down, he turned her around to face him, that blank mask of bland indifference firmly fixed over his features when he asked, "What?"

Sensing danger suddenly, Fala twisted out of his grasp and slowly backed out of the bathroom, never taking her eyes off her husband. She had come to recognize that expression on his face (or rather, that _lack_ of expression) as something to be wary of. It was the face he wore when he didn't want his true feelings known, whether they are good or ill. Most often than not, it hid his angry and violent emotions. The Empress had come to equate that face to the calm before a storm or the deep breath before a plunge.

"Its… its to soon for us, ya know." She said, attempting to placate him and sooth the whatever emotion was simmering just beneath the surface of the beautiful mask that was his face at the moment. He stalked after her at the same pace at which she was retreating. "We're both so young, and… and we only just got married… Its just a little to soon for us to have a baby."

The back of her legs contacted with the foot of her bed and Fala cast her eyes sideways at the door that separated her bedroom from the sitting room. She wondered how feasible a dash to it would be. Knowing her husband and his superior speed she decided not to risk it unless necessary. He was a natural born hunter, if she ran he would follow and when he caught her (and he _would_ catch her) she didn't want to think about what kind of punishment he might visit upon her.

"Sit." Sincline barked and the Empress' butt seemed to plunk down on the bed of its own accord. He leaned down low, placing his hands on her shoulders, his eyes staring into hers. "You're full of shit, Fala. Don't deny it. The reason you're not happy with this pregnancy is because this ruins your chances with that irksome knave, Kogane Akira."

His wife gasped. She hadn't heard that name in a month; she hadn't uttered it in a month. But her had still been ever present in her thoughts and in her fears (mostly just in her fears of late). So startled was she at the mention of her beloved Chief that she blurted out, "He's alive then!"

At this her husband laughed. "Oh yes, precious, he is alive; they all are. Alive and well and living it up with your cousin on Heracles. I'm afraid he's replaced you, dear."

He had not called her 'dear' since the faithful night of her final rejection of his claims that they were _ardan_. But this time, rather than a term of endearment, is sounded almost like a slur. He was just trying to confuse her, to make her think less of herself and sew doubt in her mind. Kogane hadn't replaced her, he and the others had simply fled to Heracles after Raible surrendered in order to come up with a plan to rescue her. Amue must just be helping with that plan.

'_But then… what's taking them so long?'_ Asked a nasty little voice inside her. _'Why hasn't he come yet? It's been over a month, Golion should have showed by now. They don't care about you anymore. He doesn't love you._'

"You're lying!" The Empress snarled.

A wicked smile spread over his exotic features. "Maybe I am… Maybe he's just biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to whisk you off your feet and away from me. Or maybe he's lost interest and has moved on to another Princess. I hear he does spend allot of time with Amue and, after all, she has always ever only been _your _understudy."

"You're wrong! Kogane cares about _me_!"

"Maybe he does and maybe he doesn't." The Emperor shrugged. "But that's a moot point now. What do you suppose he'll think when he find out about this?" He placed his hand over her flat belly, making the Empress flinch. "Whether they're from Earth, Altea or Galra it doesn't make a difference, no man is keen on the idea of their woman carrying another man's child."

"You lie." Fala said again. "I'm sure _normal_ Galran men don't care. Nera said the Galra are a polyandrous people, you can have several partners at a time and no one gives any nevermind. You're just jealous because you're a spoiled, selfish, insecure jack-ass who knows he'll never get a willing woman and will always have to resort to blackmail, extortion and rape to get sex!"

He ignored her unkind assessment of his character (close to the mark though it was). "Ardan are free with their partners, yes." He said softly. "But mating pairs remain exclusive for several years at a time."

This time it was her turn to smile wickedly. "So then, now that I'm pregnant and we're a 'mating pair', does that mean you're gonna quit using your harem and only ever sleep with me?"

At that he sighed, straitening. He glanced sideways at her window which was currently obscured by her heavy pink curtains and looked almost forlorn when he said, "If only you would come to me willing my and I could take you without causing you harm, I would have done away with my harem long ago."

"So, is that a 'no' then? You're such a hypocrite."

"As are you, my wife. We're a matching set."

"I am not a hypocrite!" Fala shot to her feet and glared up at him.

"Mm, but you are." He smiled. "You call me a butcher and a murderer but you have just as much blood on your hands as I do." (An entirely in accurate statement.) "Tell me, how many Galran soldiers have you killing in your Lion? How many capitol ships have you destroyed? How many tanks? How many fighters? Each one of those was manned by living citizens of this Empire. Everyone one of them had family back on whatever planet they called home who grieved their loss and cursed your name."

"At least I'm not a rapist." His wife snarled back.

To this he merely shrugged. "Yes, well if you talk to your Captain again you'll find that we have a different definition of 'rape' than you're used to on Altea."

"I don't here you denying it."

Again Sincline only shrugged. "No point. All this banter is beginning to irritate me and has steered our conversation off topic. I'm willing to entertain tangents, but not let them take over completely."

"Fine, we'll get back on topic." Fala growled. "You're wrong. This baby doesn't ruin anything between Kogane and I, that has already been ruined by his lack of nobility and by my duties as a princess. There never could have been anything between us but 'puppy-love'. No, the reason I loath this thing in my belly so much is not because of Kogane but because of _you_, my husband. I hate this child because it is yours; your wretched vile demon-spawn offspring."

His mask of indifference cracked and shattered, his face contorting in the most frightening look or pain and rage Fala had ever seen on a man. He raised his hand as if to strike her and the Empress flinched, but the blow never fell. His hand stuck frozen in the air unmoving, the rest of his body shaking violently with unchanneled emotion. His mouth moved but no words came out. His fingers curled into a tight fist, his nails digging into his palm, Fala saw the tiniest drop of blood fall on her pink-carpeted floor. Finally he managed to speak again.

"You're a bitch, Fala." He croaked. "Well, sorry its so disagreeable to you, but you're having that child whether you like it or not! That 'wretched demon-spawn' as you called it is a gift from the gods! You should appreciate it. They did not have to allow the line of Eliindaal to be continued through the womb of a xenophobic little cunt like you, you should feel honored!"

He turned to leave but paused again at the door. "I have to throw a feast as per Imperial custom to celebrate this _joyous_ event. It will take a few days to organize. You have that time to get used to the idea. But you're going to attend and you're going to look happy!"

He slammed the door behind him.

…

It was a several hours later, after Sincline had spent all his rage and frustration on his Collection that he had the calmness of mind to go over their conversation again in his mind. For all of Fala's insults and slanders that she had so freely and passionately flung at him, she had let one compliment, one endearment slip past her rosy-pink lips unchecked. In the bathroom when he had tried to apologize to her, she had been so shocked that she had called him '_her_ Sincline'.

'_My Sincline doesn't apologize for anything. My Sincline is convinced that he can do no wrong.'_

"'My Sincline'." He said aloud, earning a number of confused yet terrified looks from his harem slaves (those that were still conscious or had not been hauled off for medical treatment once he was done with them). "Yes, Fala, I am yours. Probably far more than you're mine. But it is a comfort to hear you admit it."

It was encouraging.

…

(A/N: I took a break in writing this chapter to do this little comic: http: / renkonnairu. deviantart. com/art/Sincline-s-Blue-195731116

Shameless self-promotion FTW. )


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Twenty-One:

As Sincline had said, it had taken some time for him to make arrangements for the banquet at which he would officially announce that his Empress was carrying. Traditionally, Imperial functions such as this were organized by His Eminence's favored concubine (or in this case the Empress). However, Fala neither had any desire to neither did she know all that was required for such an event. Thus the responsibility fell to the Emperor and by extension, his staff (more so the staff).

Three days in total it had taken the Emperor's staff to organize and arrange for the event. Invitations (more like polite summons) had been sent, confirmations of attendance had been received. The throne room and banquet hall had been appropriately decorated for the even with the Imperial red, black and gold color combination as well as crème-yellow, the color of female fertility. And all this had happened in no more than three days. All to soon as far as Fala was concerned.

But then again, everything seemed to be happening far to soon for her. Some times it felt more like she was watching her life projected on a view-screen and played in 'fast-forward'; one event whizzing by so fast she barely registered it before another one occurred and took precedence only to shoot past her before she could adjust and so on… Everything was so complicated. She almost missed her days of violence and fear when her husband was her enemy attacking her planet almost every Saturday morning like clockwork.

Back then her days were dominated by anxiety and fear, her hours filled with gratuitous robot violence, but at least that had been simple. Black and white it had been, good and evil, right and wrong. Now… now she felt like she just didn't know anything anymore. She almost felt like an ignorant child waking up to meet the real world and learning that it was not the beautiful shiny happy place where good always wins and evil never prospers and lines are clearly drawn and defined like the childen's stories had always taught her it was. No. This world was gray and murky with confusing rules and vague, ill-defined moral codes.

Lovers could sleep around with who ever they wanted and as many people as they wanted, but 'mating pairs' remained exclusive to each other for several years (according to Sincline whom was a questionable source). Fala would have thought that having a child together would have made her and Sincline a 'mating pair' but apparently that wasn't what defined them as such. According to him (again, a questionable source of information) a mating pair was two people whom agreed upon the terms of their mating ahead of time and came together for the specific purpose of procreation. Their temporary exclusivity was so that they could focus their combined energy on raising said offspring with little distraction or interference from other partners.

_Ardan_, what Fala equated to 'lovers' in her mind often ended up having children together however, the children where not the intended result of the coupling but rather a bi-product of it and so did not have any significant effect on the parents' relationship beyond the fact that they now had a kid (or another kid in some cases). This, the Empress had learned from Captain Nera whom she _did_ trust as a decent source of information and whom also had three daughters or her own with her _ardan_. (The Captain had shared this information only as an example to help the Empress better understand, she was not in the practice of discussing her personal life at work.)

'_And where does marriage fit in, in all of this?_' The Empress had asked after this explanation.

Nera had persed her thin reptilian lips at that question and taken a pause before answering. When she finally did, she explained that mating pairs, _ardan_ and just casual sex were all an individual's right and business. Coupling of those sorts involved nothing and no one else beside those with whom said coupling was taking place. Marriage, however, was a legal affair. It was a contract to be agreed upon by the parties involved (and often their families) and approved of by the state. Most often within the Galra Empire, marriage was only practiced by property owners looking to combine their estates and expand their fortunes; it was just a business deal with sex as an added bonus. Or, occasionally, a man might marry one of his _ardan_ because he wanted the offspring of that particular woman to be legally recognized as his heirs over any other children he might have from other women.

All this the Captain explained, but Fala still thought it didn't make much sense. Sincline had already owned Altea by the time he forced their marriage, so the first reason couldn't possibly be why he had married her. And then he still maintained the he had thought himself sterile prior to her pregnancy as well, so the latter reason didn't make any sense either. The Empress did not share any of these thoughts with Nera, however. She liked the woman and thought of her as a friend of sorts, but… some times she just wished for a human friend to confide in.

Fala had spent a great deal of time in the company of her Guard Captain over the past three days. Both out of a need to better understand the culture she had unwillingly married into and also out of the simple desire for friendly female company. She had tried becoming friends with her maid, Marisol, but the woman seemed reluctant to relax enough to allow for any sort of true friendship to form between them. The Empress had observed similar such behavior in the other slaves within the castle and had slowly come to realize that while she was human as they were, they did not view her as one of their own. She was married to the Galran Emperor, she was one of '_them_', she was an Imperial, a master.

At this desolate realization the Empress heaved a heavy sigh. She was like a slave in her own mind, Sincline's own personal companion. But she was not a slave as the rest of them were, she wore no collar, followed no orders save the Emperor's own, bowed for no one, offered submission to no one… She might think herself a slave, but she was not, just a prisoner.

…

Sincline paced the perimeter of his wife's sitting room in impatience. What was it about women that took them so damn long to get ready for anything? It was a common steriotype among most peoples of the galaxy whether they be from Galra, Altea, Earth or wherever; women just plain took forever preening themselves.

It wasn't even like Fala actually _wanted_ to look her best this evening. Oh no, Sincline was perfectly aware that his wife loathed the fact that her attendance at the evening's banquet was required. Her delay of primping was far more likely just an excuse to avoid the inevitable by just a few more moments, much to the annoyance of her husband.

Just when his patience was at its limit and the Emperor was ready to barge into her bedroom and demand she come out, the door opened and the Empress' maid stepped aside for her Lady to pass and Sincline's breath caught in his chest.

Her slaves had dressed her in an exquisite gown of gold and black with ribbons of shining crimson trailing from the sleeves and waist. The back had been laced downwards with red-silk thread that came to an elegant bow at the small of her back but above the curve of her buttocks. The collar was low-cut, its drooping neckline displaying just enough cleavage to make him stiffen and drool but not nearly enough to be indecent. The sleeves were low at the shoulders and exposed the torn, gnarled flesh of her scar from his _velhil_, and Sincline found himself suppressing the urge to sink his fangs once again into that most erotic and delicious part of her.

There eyes met and Fala immediately averted hers, finding the unmasked hunger in his gaze uncomfortable. Color rose in her cheeks and down her chest to crown the tops of her breast. Her breasts seemed rounder; all of her was full, _lush_, and her skin seemed to glow from the inside. Sincline was suddenly struck by the fantastical idea that he was gazing at a creature of such power and beauty only talked of in songs and tales from the First Age.

"Is.. is something wrong?" She asked, voice soft and tentative as a cool winter's down on a planet with clear skies. "Do I have something on my face?"

"What?" He blinked as is waking up from some spell she had cast upon him.

"You were staring."

"Oh, I…" The Emperor cleared his throat and straitened his already perfect posture in an attempt to regain some semblance of dignity. He turned from her and retried a package that he had set on the couch before he had begun his pacing of the room. It was a black lacquered box with intricate patterning carved around the corners and around the sides and painted in gold. "I ordered this be made for you after our wedding."

Lifting the lid, he withdrew from the box platinum diadem. It was spiked as the Emperor's crown was but not as tall, where the Imperial crown had been fitted with a ruby in the center, this diadem sported a flawless blue sapphire. Smaller blue stones ran the circumference of its base in a pattern of alternating sapphire and blue-topaz and from its sides, just in front of where her ears would be dangled two short silver chains fitted with topaz, sapphire and diamond. Fala blinked at it, as the light played off its sparkly surface.

"Gold is the traditional color for royalty." Her husband was saying. "But I thought, seeing as how your hair is already gold, that a different metal might look better. Galra has not had an Empress since the reign of Finagaal _ni Undomil_ and she wore my crown. There is no heirloom meant for an Empress that I can give you and so I had this made."

He placed the silver-colored crown on her golden head and stepped back to admire her.

It did not match a thing she was wearing and felt heavy and uncomfortable on her head. Fala quickly decided that she did not like it and she could not for the life of her understand why Sincline was continuing to gaze at her with warmth and admiration like some love-struck puppy. It was not in keeping with his usual character and made her uncomfortable and wary.

"We should go." He finally said at length, offering her his arm and leading her out into the corridor and to the lift. "I must confess," he began once the lift door was closed, "while I never thought I would have children I did imagine it every now and again."

"Oh?" Fala said fanning interest but ultimately not caring.

"Of all the scenarios I ran through in my mind, this was never how I imagined this moment." He sighed. "I imagined this happening much latter in our lives, I imagined it having been planned for, prepared for, I imagined my Empire stable and I imagined you _happy_."

"You imagined _me_?" She asked skeptically.

"Always."

"Even before you met me?" She glanced at him sideways.

"I did not imagine having children with_ you, _Fala of Altea, before I met you." He turned to look her squarely in the eyes. "I decided that if I were to ever have a child I would want it to be a woman that could be a leader as strong and fierce as myself. I wanted a woman who was already a queen in character regardless of her actual title or status. I wanted a woman who could raise an Emperor. And then I met you. You gave a name and a face to my ideal, but it had always, ever, been you. You are my dream, Fala. You…"

The lift door opened and he cut himself short, as they no longer had the luxury of the lift's privacy to continue their conversation.

…

Fala had tried to look happy for the first few minuets of the affair, but decided that it was a lousing battle and gave up. Sincline would just have to be satisfied with her _not_ looking miserable. She sat in her gold-painted chair beside the Golden Thrown and studied her surroundings for a lack of anything better to do. She seemed to spend a great deal of her time these days just studying her surroundings. Had it been a sport of sorts, she was confident she would earn a gold medal in observation.

Even for Sincline's coronation the throne room hadn't been this decked out. With banners and streamers of red, gold and black all bearing the Imperial insignia of the horned skull as well as ones in a creamy yellow that bore a stylized yet simplistic image of a chalice. These, Fala assumed, were something specific to the celebration but she did not want to ask Sincline for fear that she might misinterpret her question as actual interest rather than the idle curiosity that it was.

On the floor below the dais the men and women of the court disported themselves, dancing with such delicate grace one could scarcely know that they were the same barbarous people that had invaded and enslaves countless peoples and planets to satisfy all their excesses. Dressed in fine silks and furs, jewels and brocades; they twirled and spun, joined hands in two circles, one inside the other, broke the circle, changed partners and began the dance anew. It was almost hypnotic to watch and Fala felt her mind drifting to other things.

'_This was never how I imagined this moment_.' Sincline had told her.

Well, it wasn't how she had imagined it either. As he did, she had imagined herself older, and more prepared. But unlike her alien husband, she had not imagined this moment with him, _ever_, not even for a second. She had not imagined it on Galra, an evil planet populated by wicked people, no. She imagined herself happily married to an Altean nobleman of some sort or perhaps a foreign dignitary from another planet, a political union Raible might have arranged for her. But not Sincline, certainly not Sincline, _never_ Sincline. Neither did she imagine a large fancy party such as this, all this fancy and frippery did not suit her. To spite her status as a princess, she had no love of fancy parties or courtly intricacies. To announce her pregnancy she had imagined a small intimate dinner with just close friends; herself, her husband, Raible, Hys, the Golion team… just small gathering, nothing like this.

The Empress heaved a heavy sigh and adjusted the heavy diadem upon her head. It was heavy, the weight of it beginning to bother her neck ever so slightly.

"Are you ill?" Sincline asked at her sigh. He leaned over in his throne to whisper to her, his lips almost brushing against the delicate curve of her ear.

"No." Was her curt reply. Only after the word was out of her mouth, however, did she think that if she had said 'yes' he might have let her go back up to her chambers and leave this elaborate soiree behind.

Her answer seemed to satisfy him, however and he leaned back. After two more dances the Emperor stood and clapped his hands for silence, saying that it was time to retire to the banquet hall for dinner. He offered Fala his arm and the Imperial couple descended from the dais leading the precession out of the throne room.

It was not until every last nobleman, officer and lady that made up the Imperial court was seated the Sincline stood again, holding his goblet of wine in his hand. The actual announcement that the Empress was now carrying was actually rather short, but was followed by a rather long monologue praising Vianya goddess of sex and fertility that (to Fala's ears) sounded like something her husband had memorized out of requirement rather than any actual reverence for the goddess. It was rather like a student reciting a lesson in class.

After this was a toast and then the food was finally brought out, the Empress suddenly finding herself ravenous.

Fala attacked the serving dishes the moment their golden lids were lifted, piling her plate high with beef, pork, lamb; anything she could easily recognize as 'not people' and knew wouldn't make her sick.

"Why, Fala, you're starting to eat like a Galran." Her husband commented hiding an amused smile behind his wine goblet.

She flushed at his remark and slowed her pace, calling up the polite Altean table manners Hys had drilled into her. She cut off small, dainty bites from the meat and ate them slowly with care, exaggerating the motions a bit in an attempt to distance herself from any semblance of 'manners' his vile people might follow. This only seemed to amuse him further and his smile deepened. Heaving an exaggerated sigh of mock exasperation he turned his attention to filling his own plate, selecting for himself a somewhat wider and more diverse assortment of meats than his adorable but skittish wife had.

Fala's eyes were drawn to his place as she watched him cut into an alien meat that was almost lavendar in color. Dark violet juice (that might possibly have been the creatures blood, Sincline seemed to prefer his meat rare) oozed out from the cuts and for reasons unknown it did not disgust her. Quite the opposite actually, whatever the hell it was he was eating, it smell fantastic and she found herself wanting to try it. She glanced at the serving dish off of which it had come and saw no small cuts of the meat, her gaze returned to her husband's plate and the second bite he was cutting for himself.

"Something the matter?" He asked before popping this second bite into his mouth.

She felt another blush color her cheeks as she tentatively asked, "What are you eating?"

He took a moment to finish chewing and swallow before answering, "Food." With a wolfish grin.

Fala huffed and turned back to her own plate, never one to enjoy his games.

"Would you like to try some?" Her husband asked, cutting a small pied off for her. He used his fork and knife to transfer the morsel onto her plate.

Fala stabbed the slice of meat with her own fork and brought it half way to her mouth before pausing. "This wasn't a person, was it? It doesn't look human, but was it sapient? Did it beg for its life? I don't want to eat people."

Here his look turned less playful and he donned a serious expression. "Knowing your delicate sensibilities, I would never intentionally try to feed you something you might have called a 'friend'."

That was good enough for her. The Empress popped the morsel in her mouth and nearly moaned with pleasure at the rich flavor that seemed to explode within her mouth.

"Good, isn't it?" Sincline smiled as he selected a cut of the same meat off the serving platter and deposited it on her plate. "Its actually my favorite."

…

"This thing's so heavy." Fala groaned the moment she and Sincline were once again alone in the lift on their way back up to the royal residential suits. She reached one hand up for pulled the uncomfortable platinum and silver diadem from her head while the other massaged her sour neck.

"The weight of a crown does take some getting used to." Her husband agreed as he removed his own golden crown. He pulled one glove off and ran his hand along her shoulder and neck following the path her own hand took. "You're really tight."

"God! Coming from you that sounds sexual." She groaned.

He smiled in amusement at that. There were days when he himself heard sexual innuendoes everywhere. The idea that Fala _ni_ Altea in all her innocents and naïveté could also find a double-entendre in a harmless statement was _greatly_ amusing. "Come to my rooms. I'll give you a massage."

"No!" She gasped with enough passion to bruise his feelings. "I… I'll take a hot shower and try and sleep with a strait back. That should take care of it."

The lift door opened but just as the Empress was about to step out she found that her feet were no long on the ground and the rest of her was held firmly in the arms of her husband.

"Ah, Fala…" He said. "When are you ever going to learn that I don't take 'no' for an answer."

"Put me down!" She shouted and she struggled in his arms. This only succeeded in making him tighten his hold on her, however, and so she stopped.

"But, because you're so averse to coming to _my_ room, I'll take you to yours." Her said with a smile.

Opening the door took a bit of maneuvering with her in his arms but he eventually managed to get the door open and the both of then inside without dropping in precious pregnant bride. He deposited her on her sofa before walking around behind it and gathering up her hair.

"What are you doing?" Fala asked in utter confusion.

"Exactly what I said I would do." He answered, tying her hair in a knot to keep it out of his way. "I've going to give you a massage."

"Oh." She blinked in honest to goodness surprise. "I had thought you meant…" She trailed off. They both knew what she had thought he'd meant. It didn't need to be said aloud. Come to think of it, he hadn't made a move on her since learning she was pregnant and she suddenly found herself wondering if he was as averse to sleeping with a pregnant woman as he was to sleeping with a woman on her period. These thoughts were driven from her mind, however, when she felt his hands begin to gently knead, rub and caress the stiffness of her sore neck away.

He ran his hands down from her earlobes to her shoulders and back again, his hand pausing ever so slightly over the scar of his bite mark from so many weeks ago. Sincline did his best to ignore the pang of longing that curled around his core and focused on soothing his wife's discomfort. He kneaded the soft flesh of the juncture between her shoulders and neck, rubbing circles over the areas that felt the tightest and was pleased when Fala let out a contented moan.

"You're surprisingly good at this." She said, eyes closed.

"I have expert knowledge of the human skeletal and musculature systems." He answered with a shrug. "Though, this is the first time I've ever used that knowledge to comfort rather than harm."

To this she did not say anything and he assumed she imagined the worst of him, as she always seemed to do. Of course in this case the worst was correct. He had been taught this particular knowledge for the purposes of torture and interrogation, but he wasn't about to come out and tell her that. Finally, after he decided the silence between them had drawn on for long enough he added, "Of course, I did learn a trick or two from when I would demand massages from the women in my Collection."

No sooner had he said this, however, then he wanted to shoot himself in the foot. Fala greatly disapproved of his harem and reminding her of it and how often he continued to use it would not help his case with her one bit.

The silence between them returned and this time Sincline did not try to break it. If Fala wanted to talk with him then she would talk. There was no force in the 'verse that could shut her up when she had something to say and so he contented himself with administering his massage and rubbing his calloused hands over the porcelain perfection of her shoulder and neck. The silence between them broken only once when she asked him to focus on a specific spot on her neck. Finally the Emperor had to conclude that he had drawn out this moment between them long enough. Her neck was fine once again and she would become annoyed with him if he lingered any longer.

He let her hair down from the knot he had tied it in and collected his discarded crown and gloves from her coffee table. "Well, I guess I better be going…"

"Thank you." She stood to see him out.

He paused in the doorway. "I…"

"Yes?" She said, resting one hand on the doorframe, a subtle way of blocking his path back in (as if she could ever really stop him).

Another awkward silence fell over them and Sincline began to feel very foolish, like a schoolboy grappling with his first crush. He found himself fiddling with the gloves in his hands in what could only be described as 'nervousness' and stopped.

"Corsets." He said at last.

"What?" She blinked at him in utter confusion.

"I, uh, I don't want you wearing those corsets anymore." He elaborated. "At least, not until after the child is born. They're rather tight and run the risk of possibly damaging it."

"Oh." Fala answered not really sure what to say to that. Truth be told, she had never really cared for the things anyway. They were always so horribly tight and constricting and limited both her movement and her breathing. However, she also didn't much like Sincline telling her what she was and was not aloud to wear. He already controlled so much of her life now. And she certainly didn't care if it harmed the little monster inside her.

"And…" He continued, unsure. "And I don't think it's all that healthy for you either. Sometimes it looks like you're crushing your ribs and I'm sure your organs aren't happy about them either."

"And so what do you suggest I wear under my clothing, dear husband." Fala growled.

At this Sincline grinned mischievously, not longer feeling awkward of foolish at all. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "Who ever said you had to wear any underwear at all?"

The tiniest of gasps escaped her then (of course this might have also had something to do with the fact that he also licker her ear) and she flushed a bright shade of red. "That's _scandalous_!"

Her husband merely shrugged. "I would greatly enjoy seeing your nipple through your top every day."

"You are a horrible, dirty, rotten, _pervert_!" She snarled.

"Mm, flattery will get you nowhere."

She slammed the door in his face. He skipped back to his own chambers in oddly high spirits considering the conversation they had had. She still thought him an abominable savage and he still maintained that she was a xenophobic prude, but the day (overall) had been a good day. All their insults had never made it past just surface irritation they had even joked with one another a bit (or at least, come as close to 'joking' as they ever would come with one another). All in all, it was a good day.

…


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Twenty-Two:

_The story is told, though who can say if it be true, that once long ago before the days of Eliindaal when the Tribes of Galra were many and scattered there was a Prince. He was the eldest son of his kingdom's king, but because he was the son of a harem slave he could not succeed his father and so his younger brother was named Heir in his place. The Prince was not satisfied with this and so turned his eye toward finding a kingdom of his own to rule. _

_The neighboring kingdom belonged to a Tribe of the eldain, fairest of all the Galran peoples and said to have been blessed by Menegroth with long life. They were tall and lithe of body with finned ears and no pupils to mar the perfect orbs of their golden eyes. It was this kingdom that the Prince turned his gaze to, for he had heard that the king of that kingdom had no sons whom would succeed him, only one fair but frail daughter. The Prince presented himself as a suitor for the Princess, hoping to win the kingdom through a contract of marriage. _

_He was received well by the King but when the Princess was presented to him she turned her nose at the young Prince and rejected his offered contract. The King, always doting on his child, then turned the Prince out of his house and forbade him from ever returning to his lands again. Enraged, the Prince vowed revenge for the insult and stormed from the castle. _

_He had supporters in his own father's kingdom and with them was able to raise an army, forgetting his own father and brother and the kingdom that could have been his by birthright, the Prince turned his new army toward the eldain King and Princess whom had slighted him. His host marched through the King's lands, burning as they went, salting the land so that nothing would ever grow there again and slaughtering all those who stumbled across their path, warrior, mother and child alike. _

_When the castle was reached the Prince laid siege to it for five days and five nights. His men surrounded it, cutting off all exits so that none could escape, nor could any new supplied or previsions reach those inside. On the morning of the sixth day, the King himself came out bearing a banner of truce. But the Prince did not wish to listen to the old mans treaties and he hewed the man's head from his shoulders. His army rushed through the open gate like a flood of blades, destroying all in their path. The Princess whom had rejected him was given to his men as a reward for their loyalty and service and a punishment to her for her scorn. The castle itself was brought down, the stones of its foundations fractured out from under it and the Prince stood in the ruined rubble and saw what he had wrought. _

_He had come here seeking a kingdom of his own, but had instead destroyed a land of the fair-people, the_ eldain_, blessed by Menegroth. He had offered a marriage contract to the Princess not only because she was the sole heiress to her father's kingdom but also because she was as fair and lovely as any woman he had ever seen, but he had given her to please his men without a seconds pause. He had won the battle but had nothing of his own to show for it. No kingdom, no woman, no lands and no treasure. _

_The Prince sank to his knees, feeling as if he had suddenly woken from a madness and offered a prayer to Angmaal, god of Doom and Destiny. _

_And then, a bit of shine caught his eye. The sparkle of light reflected off of something metallic. The Prince pulled from the wrecked ruin of the castle a small mangled trinket. It was a tiny thing, but it was of good quality and very fine. Delicate and fair, like the _eldain_ people themselves but strong as well, to have survived the destruction of the castle. The Prince took this tiny treasure from the castle and cherished it as his one trophy. It was a small thing, but it was all he had. _

_And he called this treasure his _sindariin_._

…

Fala put down her data pad and ejected the datadisk of children's stories she had been reading. '_These are fairy-tales!_' She though. '_Ugh!_'

Of course, a people as bloodthirsty and cruel as the Galra _would_ write children's stories about murder, destruction and rape. That was pretty much their whole culture in a nutshell, murder, destruction, rape. Everything else was just window-dressing. She looked down at her still flat belly with a glare of loathing.

"And you're going to be just like him, too." She growled allowed. "Just like all of them, your father and the rest of his despicable people."

She tossed her datapad down on her coffee table and stood, stretching. As per her husband's request she had stopped wearing the restrictive corsets under her clothing and so the motion was free and unhampered. Fala had to admit, there was something rather liberating about only wearing a single pair of panties for underwear, not that she would ever admit that to Sincline. He'd suggest that, since she felt so free without underclothing on, that she should try wearing no clothing at all. The degenerate pervert!

The Empress paced her sitting room restlessly. While lounging around her suit without any undergarments was a 'liberating' experience, the idea of actually going outside in such an indecent state of dress was just _scandalous_! (Not the people of Galra even cared much about what she considered to be a 'scandal'.) Fala crossed back into her bedroom and examined her reflection in the mirrored doors of her closet. The floor-length gown she wore was pattered in interlacing spirals of pink and lavender over forest green. The collar, sleeves and hem were embroidered with a similar pattern in gold and silver. Ribbons hung from the ends of her sleeves and back of her collar. It looked so heavy and gaudy (the phrase 'color vomit' spring to mind), but was made of a material so light that it felt like little more than a sundress.

One couldn't tell she wasn't wearing any underwear, not by looking at her anyway. But _Fala _knew she wasn't and that knowledge alone made her blush uncomfortably.

'_You can't spend the rest of your life trapped in this room._' She reprimanded her reflection.

Turning away from the mirror, she screwed up her courage, attempted to ignore the feel of the soft fabric against her bare breasts and stepped out of the bedroom, back to the sitting room, her hand on the door handle and out into the hall. Her normal quartet of guards silently fell into formation around her. Nera's shift had already ended for the day and the Empress was somewhat disappointed to not have the woman's company. Of all the people she had met here on Galra, the Captain was the one she had grown closest to and might even consider calling a 'friend'. Oh, well. Friend or no friend, she had stepped out of her suits. Where to next?

Fala thought momentarily about fleeing back into her rooms. She had ventured outside successfully, no need to push herself. But then she reminded herself that she was not the type to run and hide in a corner. She was a Lion pilot, a warrior, a princess, an Empress! No, she had made it out of the room, she would not go charging back in again so soon. She turned down the hall heading in the direction of the bath. Showering was nice and all, but every now and again a person just needed a hot soothing bath, and boy did Fala need soothing right now!

As she made her way down the corridor she took note of the extra suits that stood shut and unused. It seemed that the Royal Residential wing had been build with a large family in mind but the Empress couldn't imagine any Galran Emperor (past, present of future) having a big family. Big families, in her mind, happened when two people cared about each other and loved each other deeply and their many children were the product of that shared love. Of course, she reflected, all these rooms could be for multiple wives; and then many wives would just as easily equal manny children. Perhaps it made sense after all. And that wasn't including any illegitimate bastards an Emperor might get from his harem slaves. Fala grimaced, with all the sex these Galran Emperors seemed to have, it was a wonder they ever managed to get anything done at all!

She reached the communal bath chamber at the end of the hall and one of her guards opened it for her with a strait back and a salute.

The Empress didn't thank the woman. Her manners had been declining ever since she learned that she was pregnant, ever since she realized that there was no escaping from Sincline now. Even if she did manage to somehow get away, he would still always be there; she would still always see him reflected in her child's face. Even if the little monster didn't resemble the vile and hated Galran Emperor in the least, she would still always look at it and see its father. She would never escape him, could never escape him; their lives had been irreversibly intertwined and that knowledge made her despair.

But she tried not to let her grief be her master. No, she endeavored to master her grief. So while she may have let slip a few of the simpler courtesies of a polite society she refused to give up her spirit. She refused to lock herself away and wait for uselessness and old age to claim her. No, she was still a princess, an Empress, a daughter of Kings!

The Daughter of Kings stepped into the bath chamber almost cautiously. She had peered in it tentatively when she first arrived on Galra but had not done much more than that. Upon learning that Sincline was free to walk in on her at any time (and probably would too) she had promptly ignored it. Now, she didn't really care all that much if he walked in on her or not. She had already been as violated by him as a woman could possibly be violated, what was a little peeping on top of it all?

The carpet disappeared from under her feet and was replaced by smooth wood panels, the same dark wood that her bed and coffee table were made from, '_chalha_ wood' Sincline had called it. It came from a tree that had once been indigenous to Galra before the Cataclysm. She looked down and saw herself reflected in the floor's polished panels, her head crowned by a halo created from the bath's overhead light. She looked almost heavenly, sad, but heavenly. Fala walked a wide circle about the room, taking note of the racks of clean and fluffy towels of blue and black each embroidered with the horned skull of Galra in the corner, the servant's door which (while not technically _hidden _as the door in her bedroom was hidden) was still concealed, another door that upon inspection lead to a steam room and finally her eyes fell on the focal point of the chamber: the not-quite-as-large-as-a-swimming-pool bath.

It was long and wide and oval shaped, with a shallow ledge only a couple of feel below the brim and then a deep bottom. It was made of a highly polished black marble and reflected her visage far more clearly than the floors; so much so that it was almost like looking into a black mirror rather than a stone tub. The tub's walls were lined with what could only be jets for bubbles, all perfectly evenly spaced. It really seemed more like an overly large jacuzzi rather than a bath tub.

"And me without my swimsuit." She muttered.

One of her guards offered to fetch a slave to fill the bath if the Empress so desired. But Fala waved off the notion. Her idea of a bath was a cozy white porcelain tub in a cozy pink-tiled bathroom, it was not a dip in an almost swimming pool sized hot-tub with bubbling jets and who knows what else. The Empress shook her head and walked out of the room, her loyal but silent guard maintaining their formation around her.

The opposite end of the corridor found Fala pausing outside the curved door of the shrine. Sincline had spent an awful lot of time in there since they had learned of her pregnancy. She didn't know if he was thanking his gods, cursing his gods or if his faith had just been generally strengthened by the news. She supposed that under any other circumstances, she would have viewed a couple that was supposed to not be able to have children suddenly conceiving to be a miracle. She pulled the door open and slipped inside. Sincline was not there, much to her great relief.

But signs that he had been there at some point or another that day were. The feet of Menagroth's statue in the center of the room were smeared with blood, dry and flaking. Nera had explained to her that the god-King demanded blood as tribute because it was by his will that their lives were given to them and that the proper way of thanking him for his gift was to give back a small bit of your own life-force (your blood). This idea was somewhat revolting to Fala but given what little she had already known of the Galran people it did seem to make a kind of morbid sense.

At the base of Aradianya's statue was found a small but intricately tooled pendent on a thin gold chain. The goddess of Arda seemed to favor jewelry and other such trinkets for her offerings. It was explained that, though she was a kind and compassionate goddess, she was also very vain. This was shown in part of Galra's creation myth when Menagroth offered the world to her as a gift. Fala sneered inwardly; of course the _female_ god would be the shallow vain one. What else would one expect from a barbaric male-dominant society like Galra?

Next she moved to Maltessak, god of parenthood where a single candle had burnt down to its base. Dry droplets of white wax stuck to the statues pedestal and dotted the floor in front. Fala scratched at the wax absentmindedly for a lack of anything else to do. The candle was meant to represent vigilance, it was Sincline asking the god to watch over and protect his child from harm. The fact her husband seemed to care so much about the thing in her womb was a little unsettling to Fala. It was like he had suddenly become an actual _person_ with feelings and stuff; not just a vile, heartless, mass-murdering, fuck-head rapist.

Beside Maltessak stood Vianya's statue, the goddess of sex and fertility. At the base of her statue there was a dry and flaky mass of white… _stuff_. Fala didn't know what it was (although, she had a guess), and neither did she _want_ to know. She moved on to the final statue that the Emperor seemed to pray to: Angmaal.

The offerings Sincline left for him confused her a bit. At first it had been a single gold coin, and so the Empress had assumed that the god liked to receive money as tribute. But the next time she visited the shrine there was a five-sided spinning top at the statue's feet instead. Then Nera had explained that the god of doom and destiny liked games of chance, a coin toss, _Tarle_ (the spinning top game), roulette, etc. After this explanation the offering made since, and today Sincline had honored his god with a pair of red dice. They were shaped like any pair of normal six-sided dice from Altea, only in the place of dots or numbers were instead characters. One die sported the characters for 'ground', 'sea', 'sky', 'star', 'cup' and 'sword'. The second was marked with the number one to five and then the sixth side had been marked with the character for 'infinity'. She wondered what kinds of games were played with such a pair of dice. Certainly not any of the games she was familiar with.

The Empress lightly tossed the dice back at the god's feet and watched them bounce around for a bit before settling on 'four' and 'sea'. Fala heaved a heavy sigh. Number four, the number of her Lion's shoot and the sea, water, the source of Blue Lion's power. Thinking of her old mech and how she had piloted it in the defense of her beautiful home world made the Empress realize just how far she had fallen and in such a short time too. It seemed like eons since she had last been in Blue Lion's cockpit, but in actuality it had only been a few short month. Oh, but look at how much had happened in those months!

With another despondent sigh, Fala exited the shrine. Well, this had been a lovely little outing. Maybe next time she might actually make it to the lift. Though, where she would go within the castle she had no idea. There was no place on all of Galra that she wanted to be. The one place she did want to be, ney, that she _longed _to be was back home on Altea. She wanted to curl up safe in her own bed in her own room in the Castle Gradam. She did not want to be here. Trapped in this god-forsaken castle on this god-forsaken world where the sun never shines and there are no trees, or grass, or flowers, or anything green and good at all. If she could ask for anything at all, it would be to see sunlight again.

…

(A/N: Short chapter is short. Actually, I think this is the shortest chapter I've written for this story so far. Sorry this is such a crappy update but I've been kinda busy lately and just haven't had the time to write or when I did have the time, I just wasn't in the mood. You know how it is.

For some reason I'm just not happy with this chapter. Aside from its relative shortness it just sort of feels like "filler" to me. Of course, "filler" can be important if it furthers character development, but I'm just not sure if that was accomplished here. Bah. 'You are your own worst critic', am I right? Maybe its not as bad as I think. So, my most beloved readers, does this chapter have any value beyond just "filler"?


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Twenty-Three:

_Within my veterinarian practice I have dealt with many pregnant humans, so I like to believe that I could be considered an 'expert' on the subject. Of course, veterinarians deal with all slaves on Galra, not just the human ones, but I have dealt with homo-sapiens the most in my professional life and like to think that I have a clear understanding of them. That being said, I find myself confused by the Emperor's harem slave. _

_Yes, a human conceiving a Galran offspring is perplexing to say the least and while I am utterly dumbfounded by the reality of it, that is not what confuses me about this particular human. No, what gives me pause is not that she is pregnant with an impossible human-Galran hybrid but rather the way in which she approaches said pregnancy. Most all of the human females I have dealt with in the past had been (for the lack of a better word) excited by the prospect of becoming mothers. Slaves though they were and their children the product of selective breeding rather than whatever version of _arda_ the humans have, the women were still content (and sometimes even happy) to bring a new life into the world. _

_The Emperor's harem slave, however, this Nienor Hurin woman is not._

_She is a truly unique creature and worthy of study as a member of her race, not just as the vessel for what could only be an act of the gods. While animal-psychology is not my field and I only ever took what courses in it that were needed for my veterinary license, it is my personal opinion that a psychological study of this woman could provide remarkable insights into the human-animal._

_She views her pregnancy not as joyous blessing as I have seen other human females view their own, but rather a vile curse. She displays nothing but an aura of loathing and contempt for the developing fetus within her and has said (I was amazed to find that she spoke rather proficient Galran), said that were it not for the fear of the Emperor's wrath, she would have aborted the unborn prince the moment she learned of it. –_

Sincline shut off his data pad at that point.

Somewhere around the second or third month of his mother's pregnancy (those where Galran months, by the way) his father had become annoyed with the head-scientist in charge of his mother's… '_case-study'_ (the term left a vile taste in his mouth), and had replaced him. Sincline, whom had had to read through almost three months worth of charts, diagrams and reports, was happy for the change. This new head-doctor, in addition to those same reports, charts, etc., also added some personal journal entries or musings on the project which (for a layman like Sincline) were a welcome reprieve from all the cold medical jargon and made things _much_ easier to understand. However, he was finding some of those same passages difficult to read for other reasons not academic.

While this new scientist's journal entries made things more digestible for one without medical training, they were also hard for him to read because they confronted him with the fact that his mother had not cared for him, had not wanted him and would have killed him had she not feared what his father might have done to her if she had. How strange that he should owe his life, not to the woman who bore him, but rather the man whom had been ready to execute him just a few short months ago.

Intellectually he understood it. He had been the unwanted product of what any human would call 'rape'. She had not wanted his father and she had not wanted him. These facts were perfectly understandable, a regular textbook case. Sincline, however, was not a textbook. Contrary to his charming wife's belief, he was a living and feeling person just as susceptible to emotional pain as any other sapient creature.

And his mother wished he had ever existed…

With a self-pitying sigh he tossed the datapad down and reached for the open bottle of _yarbara_ that had been placed on his coffee table for just such a need. The young Emperor had long since given up the pretence of a glass of any sort and had been drinking strait from the bottle almost since he reached the second disk on the files. The wine did little to sooth his miserable mood, however, and only seemed to make his mind wander.

'_The reason I loath this thing in my belly is because of you, my husband.'_ Fala's words echoed through his mind and stabbed at his heart like a lance. '_I don't want this baby._'

It seemed that history was repeating its self. Fala had taken the place of Nienor and was playing out the same drama for the gods' amusement. And he… '_You're a bitch, Fala… You're having that child whether you like it or not!_' …He had taken up the roll of his father (though he didn't know how accurately he was playing it). It seemed the stage was set for their great tragedy to be played out, the gods had seen to it.

Sincline stood and began pacing his sitting room. How would it end? he wondered. Would he kill Fala as his own father had killed his mother? What scenario could the gods possibly throw at him that would drive him to kill his xenophobic little wife? Most of the incentives he could think of ended in him killing someone else or himself. No, the gods had already done the whole father killing the mother thing they would want something new. A different tragedy to watch from the Otherworld… Perhaps Fala would come around to her child and raise it poisoned against him? Perhaps he would be killed by his own child? No, that gods had already done that one too. He had killed Daibazaal in the public Arena. Besides, patricide was no bog deal. Certainly not anything the gods would find entertaining.

He took another long swig from the bottle.

Standing here trying to second-guess the gods wasn't going to get him anywhere. Instead of imagining a horrible fate he should be trying to build a happy ending. Just because he and Fala were paralleling his father and mother did not mean that they were doomed to the same fates. No! Perhaps this was the gods' attempt to 'redeem' his parents' folly. Either that or they were just sadistic bastards that loved watching mortals suffer.

'_No, stop that._' He told himself. He did not like to think himself a pessimist; Sincline much preferred the term 'realist'. But every now and again he had to catch himself and force a slightly less pessimistic and more 'real' outlook.

So some things were similar between his parent and his current situation with Fala. That meant nothing. They were completely different people in a marginally similar situation. Whether or not they ended in tragedy still remained to be seen and greatly depended on how they handled themselves now.

With this thought fixed firmly in his mind, he went to see Fala.

The Emperor found his wife in her bedroom. She was standing in front of the large full-length mirrors of her closet, studying her figure from the side. Sincline took a step back before she could notice him and stood lurking in the doorway between the bedroom and sitting room, just watching her. She leaned backwards with her hand on the small of her back and watched how her flat belly curved outwards. Sincline watched as she ran her other hand over the fabric of her dress and sighed.

Was she testing to see what she would look like fat? '_No, not fat._' He quickly back-peddled. Rather, what she would look like a few months from now when her pregnant condition began to show. Yes, that was what she was doing. Looking into the future, in a manner of speaking. Was she worried about how she would look? He had never pegged her as being particularly vain (in fact, Sincline was fairly certain he had more vanity than she did). Why then… Or was this just some thing that all women did?

"You look beautiful." He announced his presence and stepped away from the doorframe.

She wheeled around in alarm, as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn't have. "Sincline!"

She looked as if she wanted to ask what he was doing here in her bedroom, but the question would have been a rhetorical one. He knew she had already assumed he was here for some licentious reason. Though he hadn't touched her since first learning that she was carrying, she still always assumed he was about to pin her down and start riding her at any moment. (Damn you, Pavlov!) An awkward silence settled over them and they stood there doing nothing more than just staring at one another for a long moment.

Then, hoping to break the tension in the air, Sincine began, "I, uh… I was just reading and wanted… a break. I wanted a break from reading." He finished lamely.

"Oh." She was unconcerned and uninterested. "That book about your ancestor?"

"Er, no…" He placed his hands in his pockets and kicked at nothing, feeling suddenly very foolish. "It was… it was something much more _heavy_ than that. But, uh, but what I really came her for was to ask… I wanted to know… I'm just curious if your opinion has changed. About the child, I mean. Our child. Do you… do you still not want it?"

Her eyes hardened, her body language rigid yet vibrating emotion and her voice was cold and unforgiving when she answered, "No, Sincline, I do not want this child."

"Because its Galran?"

"Because its _yours_."

"Because of me…" In his pockets his hands suddenly clenched into fists. He felt himself shaking and wondered if it was noticeable to Fala and what she might interpret it as. "I… its not the child's fault, ya know. This child didn't choose to have me as a father any more than I chose to have my own father." He began pacing back and forth in front of the door. "I don't get you women. You can't hold the child responsible for who its father is… was… its not… I…"

He stopped in his pacing and looked up at his wife suddenly and Fala gasped to see his eyes glistening as if with tears, but none fell.

"My mother wanted to kill me." He said, his voice overflowing with desolation. "For no other reason than I was my father's son."

He looked so mournful, so wretchedly disconsolate that something inside Fala broke and for a brief moment did not see the face on an enemy but just another tortured victim of the late Daibazaal's cruelty and she had the inexplicable urge to actually offer him comfort, but all she said was, "What?"

"And now you want to do the same thing to my child, for no other reason than its mine." He continued his pacing, avoided further eye contact. "I though you Alteans were all about love and light and forgiveness and all that hippie bullshit. But I guess that's all it is, _bullshit_. Or maybe it only applies to other humans, maybe it doesn't extend to people with Galran blood!"

She waited for him to continue, but he did not, just kept pacing back and forth in front of the door separating the bedroom from her sitting room, effectively trapping her in.

"I never said I wanted to kill it." She ventured finally, voice soft and gentle, fearing the wrong infraction would send him into a violent rage. It was a lie, of course. She had wanted to kill it; she had begged her doctor Naisha for an abortion the moment she learned of her pregnancy. But Sincline didn't know that and he didn't need to. "I just said that I don't want it. I wish this had never happened, but I don't want it dead."

The Emperor once again stopped his pacing and looked at her, his gaze overflowing with a vulnerability she never would have thought he would have, let alone show.

"I wish this had never happened." She repeated. "But is has, so we've got to make the best of it. I'm not happy about it and I probably won't every be, but…" Here she paused, a though occurring to her. She had the insane feeling that she should finish her sentence in Galran. He still didn't know she could speak and understand it. She had originally started learning the language out need, under the belief that it would help her escape. But she had since accepted the fact that there was no escape for her now. "… _but this is the fate I have been dealt_."

Sincline gaped at her. "What did you say?"

Thinking that she had misspoken and fearing that she had instead said something very offensive the Empress quickly apologized in her own language. "I'm sorry! Were my words not correct? I meant to say-"

"No, say that again."

Taken aback, Fala repeated the one sentence she had spoken to him in Galran.

"You speak my language!" He crossed the room and lifted her up in his arms laughing and twirled her around. "When did this happen?"

Fala reeled in utter confusion. He had just been hysterically upset a moment ago and now he was smiling a laughing. His moods were so capricious and mercurial it was hard to keep up! "I've been… learning."

"Say something else!" He put her down but continued to hold her. Casting his eyes about the room, he pointed at a heavy-looking marble bookend and said, "That. What's that?"

"A bookend?" She ventured unsure.

He smiled down at her before pointing to the mirrored doors of her closet. "And those?"

"Looking glass."

He then turned them around and pointed to the wall.

"Barrier."

The large four-poster bed.

"A bed."

The door.

"Portal."

He laughed and once again picked her up and twirled her around. "This is great! Now say something else. Say a full sentence! Say… say 'the walrus was Paul'."

"What!" She blinked at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

He only nodded. "Go on."

"_The tusked-beast is Paul_?" There were, of course, no walruses on Galra and Fala was not sure if they had a word for them since they were foreign animals, neither did she know if they had an equivalent animal here, so she substituted the word 'walrus' for a description of one.

He giggled again in approval. "Oh, you are so wonderful!" And then leaned down to kiss her.

Fala did not try to struggle away from it this time. She had grown tired of trying to fight him and with everything else that had already happened to her, what was one kiss?

"But where did you learn all this?" He asked when their lips finally parted.

"Here and there." She shrugged meekly. "And Nera's been helping me too."

Here his look suddenly changed from pleased to suspicious. "Funny, she never mentioned any of this in her reports."

"I- I asked her to keep it a secret!" She quickly explained, not wanting to get her only Galran friend in trouble. "Because I wanted to surprise you!"

"You wanted to surprise me?" He asked skeptically. "You did this for _me_? You would learn my language for me, but you would scorn your child because it came from me…?" He glared at her and released his hold, stepping back. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: You're a lying bitch, Fala. You didn't learn my language for me, you learned it for _yourself_. That's fine, you're going to be spending the rest of your life here, you _should_ know the language. But don't you dare try and pass it off as something you did for _me_!"

"Sincline, I-"

"Stop! Just stop." He cut her off. "Don't say anything else, you'll just dig yourself in deeper. By the gods, Fala! I know how you feel about me, but you've been living here for the past few months. Haven't I done anything in that time that didn't make you hate me? Haven't I done anything that you might have _liked_? Can't you at least _try_ to warm up to me? I mean, you're carrying my baby for the gods' sake!"

"Everything you did to me while I was drugged, I enjoyed." She reminded him. "While you were doing it, at least."

"That doesn't count."

She demurred and was silent. Sincline lapsed into a silence of his own and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

"There was… one thing…" Fala finally said in a voice barely above a whisper. Her cheeks colored a dainty rosy pink and Sincline knew that it must have been something sexual she had enjoyed. That cheered him. Sex was one of his favorite pastimes and while he had promised himself he would not touch her while she was pregnant for fear of damaging the child within her, he was looking forward to resuming their nominal congress the moment her doctor gave the O.K.

"Go on…" He urged.

"On… on our wedding night of all times…" The blush on her cheeks deepened, spreading color up her ears and down her neck. "On our wedding night, you did something that was really nice. You, um, it felt like you might have been… _licking_ me? Whatever you did, I liked that."

Here Sincline was torn between smiling and cringing. While he was happy that his wife was pleased by one of his bedroom skills, cunnilingus was his least favorite act to preform. It was kinda… gross, and he found it to be more of a chore than anything else. A means of getting the woman wet and ready for him to take his pleasure from her, not something he himself derived pleasure from. But then again, hadn't he vowed not to take pleasure from her while she was carrying? He could still give her some without taking any for himself, couldn't he? And it wouldn't run the risk of harming the child because he would never mount her, bite her or scratch at her with his claws…

"Would you like me to do that again?" He offered.

"What?" She blinked. That bright blush now reached all the way to her breasts and disappeared under the collar of her dress.

Sincline crossed the distance between them for a second time and, lifting her up in his arms, carried her to the bed where he laid her down gently.

"Would you like me to do that for you again?" He repeated.

"I… I don't know." She stuttered.

He began to push the material of her skirt up over her legs, slowly sliding it over her knees and bunching it around her waist.

"If you want me to stop, just say so." He grinned.

"I don't know…" She bit her bottom lip.

Sincline pulled her panties down her legs, slipped them off her feet and tossed them to the side where they rumpled on the floor next to the bedpost. Placing his large clawed hands on her knees he gently spread her legs and bent down between them.

"No! Stop!" Fala gasped the moment she felt his warm breath on her nethers. She reached her hands down to cover her most intimate region and sat up to look at him. Her face was alight with that same deep blush and she averted here eyes the moment she looked at him. "I… I'm to embarrassed."

"After everything we've already done together and everything I've already done to you, _this_ is what makes you feel uncomfortable?"

She fidgeted, wanting nothing more than to close her legs but finding it impossible to do so with him sitting between them. "I… I don't know…"

He sighed. "Lay back down, Fala. You have no reason to be embarrassed."

Reluctantly, the Empress relaxed back against her pillows and attempted to ignore the feeling of indecency she felt. She didn't know why she still felt that way, it wasn't like she was a pristine virgin anymore and besides, Sincline had done _much_ worse to her in the short time they had been married already. There was no reason to be nervous or embarrassed or uncomfortable. Fala took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she felt her husband's tongue on her skin and she gasped.

He started away from her feminine orchid and instead began caressing the inside of her thigh with his skilled and practiced tongue. Lightly, he flicked it across the soft and sensitive flesh of her upper leg working his way ever closer to her center. When he reached the still closed lips of her delicate core he moved his attention to the other leg and, beginning at the knee, followed a similar trail of licks and kisses and caresses up the inside of her thigh.

"Why…?" She began in a shuddering whisper, but trailed off. She didn't know why he was bothering with her legs at all and not simply just pouncing on her exposed womanhood, but she decided it was best not to question his motives lest he change his mind and forego this gentleness for his more characteristic and hurtful impatience.

Having reached her center a second time, Sincline gently parted the curly golden strands of her pubic hair and flicked his tongue over her ever so slightly moist slit. A soft moan escaped from Fala and her legs relaxed ever so slightly. Her husband flicked his tongue over her again before delivering a much longer lick up her slit. He was rewarded with a tiny wave of wetness and the lips of her labia finally parted enough for him to gain access to her inner-layers and her most sensitive clitoris.

Sincline lapped up her wetness greedily, flicking his tongue up her slit and over the sensitive bud that crowned it. This only elicited more moans from his wife and another fresh wave of wetness.

He shifted his focus from her slit as a whole to just that most delicate and sensitive bud that crowned it. Sincline devoted all his attention to pleasing her suddenly aroused and erect clit. He ran circles around the tiny bud with his tongue, every now and again pausing to gently press into it with the tip of his skilled pink tongue.

Fala bucked her hips involuntarily, as if trying to urge him onwards and he had to smile at the sheer level of her abandon. The sound of her whimpers and moans as he practices his ministrations were music to his ears. And then, a though struck him. Why not just go ahead and take her? She was aroused. She was wet and open. And she was so deliciously wonderful.

His own stiff and needy arousal pressed against the constraining fabric of his pants as if trying to break free to get at his moaning and writhing wife. She was so beautiful and she was so horny… and so was he.

He pressed his tongue between her lower lips, delving into her core and lapping up the sweet nectar that waited there for him. She gasped and sighed and writhed in pleasure and he wondered exactly why he was doing this and not mounting her properly and pressing himself inside her like he wanted to.

"-_huff_- Sincline…" She gasped with pleasure.

Waves of sensation traveled up her body radiating from her center and Fala felt her nipples harden into tight pearls beneath the fabric of her dress and she suddenly and inexplicably wished to be naked. She clawed and pulled at the material of her collar, trying to pull it down and offer her confined chest the freedom is so desired. Sincline continued his ministrations on her nethers sending waves of pleasure flowing up her stomach and beyond and she moaned with the feelings.

Those wonderful waves paused, however, when he raised his head to look at her. She met his eyes and saw the same misty lust that she was feeling reflected in his golden cat-like orbs. She paused in her own action of pulling at her dress to stare at him. He was so beautiful, his mixed alien and human features giving him an exotic and almost ethereal look, like a Silvan elf from Tolkinian myth. Look at his beautiful face and still feeling the slightest echoes of pleasure whispering through her, Fala found it easier to forget all the horrible things he had done…

She reached her hand down to him and brushed a single strand of silver hair back behind his pointed pinnacle ear in what might have been called 'affection'. Her husband gasped when her hand lightly brushed the pointed tip of his ear and a shudder traveled through him.

"I'm sorry." Fala whispered quickly, thinking she had done something wrong. She pulled her hand away but he grabbed her wrist, drawing her up into a sitting position.

"No." He soothed. "Do that again."

Cautiously, her whole form radiating reluctance, Fala gently brushed her finger over the pointed tip of his ear a second time. Sincline let out a second sigh that just might have been a soft moan of pleasure. This left the Empress even more confused than she was before.

"What did I do?" She asked.

Instead of answering, he reached up and gently stroked the curved top of her own ear. "You don't feel anything?"

Fala only shrugged. "I feel your hand."

Her husband sighed in disappointment and lowered himself back down between her legs to resume his ministrations. She was about to ask what he meant but the though was cut off before it ever reached her lips as those deliciously wonderful waves of pleasure returned and sent her reeling backwards on the surf of the sensation. She felt his tongue dart in and out of her entrance and then slide up her slit to run circles around her clit before darting back inside her. Her back arched at the feeling and she moaned with abandon.

This was nice. Why couldn't he have always done this before?

"Fala…?" He paused again, his voice deep and throaty when he said her name. Sincline once again raised his head to look at her, an almost pleading gaze in his eyes. "Would you… do something for me in return?"

The Empress watched with apprehension as he raised himself up onto his knees and began to unlace the fly of his pants. She drew her legs closed and shuffled back away from him until her back came in contact with the bed's headboard.

"I… I don't like…" She protested lamely. But what was the point of even protesting in the first place? He would just force whatever he wanted from her as he always did and she would have little to know say in the matter. He might be asking, but asking from him was just a polite command. As he often reminded her, Sincline did not take 'no' for an answer. "I don't like sex."

"Oh, no, not sex." He quickly assured her. "Well, I mean not _real_ sex. Its just you're so very very sexy and… well, look at me."

He finished unlacing his fly and slipped the pants and his underwear off his narrow hips just enough to release his stiff erection from its fabric prison. Fala gazed at his member that had become uncomfortably familiar to her. Long and thick and hard, its shaft textured with irregularly pattered bumps and ridges that no human penis should have. A main of thick curly silver hair crowded its base and two big blue and slightly hairy balls hung just below it. The Empress swallowed a lump of apprehension that had suddenly formed in the back of her throat.

"What do you mean, 'not real sex'?" She asked.

"I mean…" He paused. "I mean, not penetration sex. I won't mount you. I… I admit that I can be very… _rough_ at times and I hurt you and… and I don't want to run the risk of damaging the child inside you."

"Oh." She wasn't quite sure what to think of that. Once again she found his concern for the little creature inside her to be a little unsettling. It almost felt like he cared more about the thing than he cared about her (which was not all that surprising considering his past treatment of her). Fala suddenly found that she was no longer in the mood for… whatever they had just been doing. She moves to get out of bed. "I'm done."

"What?" Sincline watched her right her skits and adjust the collar of her dress before she stood and reclaimed her discarded panties from where he had thrown them. "You can't be done. You were so wet! You didn't cum yet! You can't just turn off, just like that!"

"Apparently, I can." She shot back. "What? Are you going to force yourself on me again? Like you always do. You can try, but I'll fight you and you'll probably end up hurting me like you always do. And that'll just run the risk of hurting the thing inside of me that you seem to care so very much about."

"You…" He pulled his pants up just enough for him to climb out of bed and stalk towards her without tripping. "You're a manipulative little bitch!"

"Maybe. But if it keeps you away from me, I intend to use this pregnancy for all that its worth." She glared back at him suddenly confident that he wouldn't hurt her so long as he was concerned for his offspring. "Now, I suggest you leave before you do something you'll regret afterwards."

"You…" He sputtered helplessly. "You're a bitch!"

Sincline pulled his pants the rest of the way up and laced his fly before storming from her chambers in a rage. And Fala was left in her rooms, alone and unharmed.

…

The Emperor selected a slave whom resembled his wife. They were of a similar height and build with similar coloring of the skin and hair. The woman's face, however, looked nothing like his Empress and the eyes were the wrong color, but the slight resemblance was enough for him. He pinned the harem slave beneath him, holding her down by the wrists.

"Do not speak." He ordered.

Her voice did not sound life Fala's, neither did she smell like his wife. But if she kept silent and he focused his eyes on the waves of her golden hair or the feel of her slight frame beneath him, he could pretend that.

And that was just what he did. Sincline took his pleasure from the slave beneath him, pretending she was his wife and wishing it were so…

…


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Ryou could not believe the announcement when it first went out over the Empire's public media and news waves. True, he himself did not speak the Galran language and the bulletins had to be translated for him by members of his little militia whom did have some sort of grasp of their meaning and so the news was always subject to some conjecture. However, the latest news wave that was currently giving the young rebel leader so much concern was one that he seriously doubted any of their translators would miss. It was to… _severe_.

Ryou read over two separate translations of the Imperial announcement by two separate members of his team. He glanced from the grubby hand-written papers to a stolen datapad what was currently displaying the original bulletin and from his own rudimentary knowledge of the language his men's translations seemed to be right. There was no mistaking it; Fala was pregnant.

The young rebel leaned against the wire framed back of his chair with a sigh of uneasy apprehension mixed with just the slightest bit of relief. Uneasy over this latest turn of events and what the new development would mean for their plans, his own, the Golion teams, and the Alliance's as well. Apprehension over what might result from this turn of events. How would Sincline deal with Fala's condition? Would Amue's cousin be alright? What would the Golion team do when they heard the news? Would they step up their plans… rush and make a mistake? What would Kogane do…? It was a bit of a 'public secret' that the Golion Chief was head-over-heals for the Altean princess. They could never be together because of the way the laws on Altea were set-up, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't fly off the handle after learning that his dearest love was now pregnant with his worst enemy's child.

For the first time in a long time, Shirogane Ryou was apprehensive (maybe even reluctant) to send an intel-update to his allies off world.

But with all his worry and doubt, he still managed to see one glorious sparkling silver lining to this dark and unfortunate cloud. Ryou could almost whoop and skip from joy and relief that it hadn't been Amue. That his beautiful Heraclesian warrior-princess had not been the one cursed with Sincline's vile offspring. If it had to happen to someone, he was glad that it wasn't the woman that _he_ loved. Yes, it was selfish. Yes, it was unfair and uncaring towards his allies. Yes, it would break Kogane's heart, Kogane whom had been such a good friend to his dearly departed elder brother. But it hadn't been _his_ woman and for that Ryou was thankful. (Not that the Heraclesian princess was actually 'his' woman. Ahem. She hadn't exactly reciprocated his feelings when he had confessed them… But then again, they had been pressed for time…)

'_I know_.' That had been it. Just two simple words made up the whole of her response to his brief but heart-felt confession. Well, at least he knew that she knew how he felt. Not that silly little romantic trifles like that really mattered in the grand scheme of things. Whether or not Amue returned his affection did not effect their war with Galra. Neither would it effect his performance in the field. He had not started his little group of rag-tag freedom fighters to impress her, he had done it because he hated Galra, because he held the Empire responsible for his brother's death; in a nutshell, he wanted revenge. Meeting a pretty face along the way was just an added bonus.

And that said pretty face would be expecting a report from him eventually. As apprehensive as he was about sending this message, this was news that needed to be sent. Something this big should not be concealed from his allies, and especially not her family (distantly related though they were). Ryou picked up a blank autoreader to record his message.

No sooner had he done this, however, than he tossed the item back onto the desk unused.

He stood and grabbed an old rag that might have been a cloak of some sort it was faded in some places, torn in others, patched in yet others. The perfect 'beggars' cloak. He wrapped it about himself and pulled the hood up over his head letting it droop down to conceal the upper part of his face and exited his room. Navigating the cavern network that formed their little 'rebel lair' he found an exit shaft that opened up near the dead woods between the castle and Nargothrond. It was the closes exit to the castle that they had, that they _dared_ have.

He was not going to be a 'hero'. He was not going with thoughts of rescue in his head, nor of assassination or anything quite so dramatic. He highly doubted that he, a human, by himself, with no back-up and no real plan could ever get to Sincline to kill him or get Fala out and away from the castle before they were caught and he killed and she returned to her husband. In fact, he highly doubted he would be able to even get to Fala at all. But that was what he planned to try and do anyway. He knew he couldn't rescue her, but he wanted to confirm. Amue would need to know that the truth came from her cousin's own lips. That was why Ryou was braving death and danger to speak to the Empress. To get the true truth, not the PR truth that Sincline gave the media, but Fala's own words. Not for himself but for Amue.

…

Sincline suppressed the urge to growl when his 'loving' wife swaggered into the throne room. She sauntered along the red carpet; her hips swaying in what would have been a provocative way were it not for the superior smirk on her otherwise beautiful face. She had been behaving this way ever since he had confessed his fears over damaging his child by hurting her and true to her words that night, she was milking it for all it was worth. She had decided that nothing could touch her, that she was suddenly invincible. She no longer feared him and for some reason, she walked the halls of Demon castle with an air of confident superiority that he had not observed in her back when she lived on Altea. There she had been kind and sweet, here she was imperious and cold but with a self-important pride he hadn't thought was possible for her.

She was finally acting like a true Empress of Galra.

But for some reason, Sincline found that this new behavior of her's bothered him. He had never wanted his wife to fear him, but now that she didn't he found that he was dissatisfied and disappointed. He had wanted her to feel comfortable and at home in his castle, as his Empress. But while she was acting the part of a proud queen, her husband greatly doubted that it was out of any real comfort with her situation or appreciation for the power and status she had. No, this new behavior of her's was born out of spite for him and that was what bothered Sincline and left him feeling hollow and dissatisfied.

Her breasts bounced under the plain powder blue material of her dress as she climbed the stairs to sit on her golden chair next to him. She flashed him a self-satisfied smirk and the Emperor suppressed the urge to cringe. Instead he motioned for the petitioner whom had been speaking prior to his wife's interruption to continue.

Sincline only half listened to man speaking, the rest of his attention focused on the spiteful Altean beauty that sat beside him. She was always mad at him, it seemed. Or if she weren't angry with him, she was piss-scared of him instead. But no matter what it was, it was always a negative or scornful feeling she felt towards him. His wife never looked at him with warmth, or affection, or admiration, or tenderness, or any sort of 'caring' type of emotion. Hell, she rarely ever even looked at him with _kindness_! If she had been a slave under his father's rule she would have be beaten to death a dozen times over by now. But this wasn't his father's regime, it was his and she wasn't a slave, she was his wife –his Empress. And she hated him.

'_You're a weak pathetic fool._' His father's words echoed through the Emperor's mind and Sincline shifted uncomfortably on the Golden Throne.

Not for the first time he wondered if the late Daibazaal had been right. Was he a pathetic and foolish weakling? His father had never let silly little things like feelings stand in his way and look what he had achieved in his last days of life. He had managed to defeat Golion where Sincline had failed repeatedly. He had managed to capture the princess; he had been the one to re-conquer Altea. His father had done all the work and Sincline had killed him and taken all the glory.

The Emperor was suddenly aware that the man trailed off. He looked down at the petitioner whom fidgeted uncomfortably beneath the Emperor's gaze.

"If… if this is a bad time for Your Eminence I can… I can always reschedule with your office." He offered nervously, bobbing his baled head up and down in several apologetic bows, the blue of his scales reflecting the lights in a way that might have been pretty in a different setting. For all their many faults, the Galran people were a rather beautiful species in their own way.

Sincline raised an eyebrow at him. Was he so focused on Fala that he had managed to look distracted? Damn it all! She hadn't even said anything and he was already annoyed with her for making him look like a doe-eyed fool. He suppressed a second growl, opting instead to snap at the innocent petitioner.

"You're dismissed."

The man hurried out.

Sincline stood and glared down at his wife.

"Something the matter?" She asked, looking up at him with her innocent big blue eyes. Her round, perfect sky-blue eyes that were so much like his mother's… "And here I came to keep you company through it. Well, I guess there's no point in my being here now."

She also stood.

"And where do you think you're going?" He demanded.

She merely shrugged, the action momentarily drawing his attention to her breast, unbound beneath her dress. "Oh, I donno… There's not many places I can go. Just stroll around the castle I suppose, like a pet kept in its cage. Unless…" She trailed off.

"Unless, what?" He asked, already knowing he wasn't going to approve of whatever it was she wanted this time.

"Unless you allow me to go outside. You know, out of the castle." She batted her lovely long eyelashes.

"No."

Fala sighed. "You're probably right. After all, my title may be 'Empress' but you and I both know that I'm just a slave. What use does a slave have for getting to know the land or the people she belongs to?"

Sincline felt the corner of his eye twitch ever so slightly. Fala was _not_ a slave, he never thought of her as one, not even during the time when he had been drugging her to sleep with him. He may have been dominating her and playing the roles of Master and slave in the bedroom, but she was _not _a slave! His mother had been a slave, his wife would not be.

"If only I could believe your interest in Galra was genuine, I would be more than happy to take you out." He replied coolly.

"What should it matter my intentions?" She shot back with a plastic smile. "You'd never let me out unattended anyway."

"Mm, you're quite right about that. Can't have my Empress traipsing about the place without a full escort, _especially_ not when she's pregnant with my heir. But tell me, Fala, if you have no ulterior motive in wanting to go out, what would you care that you had an escort or not?"

Here she laughed a silky velvet coated laugh that would have been beautiful had it been from true humor. "Oh, Sincline, I'm not going to try and run away from you. As much as I'd like to, where would I go? What place could possibly be safe from you now that you have my own planet under your control? No. I'd like nothing more than to leave you, but that was not what I had in mind. I wanted to get to know your people. Walk among them like I used to walk among my own on Altea."

"I don't believe you and I'm afraid you'd stick out like a sore thumb." He grinned in amusement, true amusement. He had started this conversation expecting her to pull her normal bitchy tricks but the idea of Fala walking around Nargothrond or another city attempting to mingle with the commoners was highly amusing. "A human dressed as a noble woman… everyone would think you were a slave who stole her mistress' clothes. I suppose there _might _be someone who might actually recognize you as the Empress, but either way, you're not going out without a full escort."

"Ah, so I am going out then?"

The Emperor quickly backpedaled. "I never said that."

"But you did say I'm not going out 'without a full escort', that would imply that you are going to allow me to go out."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does."

"Don't put words in my mouth. I know what I said."

"You're impossible!"

"So are you."

"Sometimes you remind me of a younger _evil_ Raible." The Empress grumbled. "You're so pushy and stubborn and hate letting me go outside. You and he would have been the best of friends had you lived on Altea instead of here."

"I highly doubt that." Sincline crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't quite sure if he liked being compared to Altea's strategist or not. On the one hand, Raible the Strategist was very close to Fala and she usually thought very highly of him. Being compared to a man his wife thought highly of was rather nice. However, the way in which she was comparing them did not sound all that appealing at all. She seemed to be implying that they only shared negative traits in common and that bothered him a little.

"Hm, yeah, I suppose all your friends here are young rich, murdering, sons of bitches like yourself."

"I don't have 'friends', only 'subordinates'." The Emperor corrected her. And then her word choice sunk in. "Wait a moment, did you just curse?"

"You bring out the worst in me." She shot back. And then his words sank in. "Wait a minuet, what do you mean you don't have friends? Everyone has friends!"

He did not reply. It should have been obvious to her why the prince, now Emperor, of Galra did not have 'friends'. A 'friend' was a person whom you viewed as a peer, an equal. Since the Emperor had no equal he likewise had no friends. It was a mark of his high status. Why was she looking at him like he'd just told her his mother had hated him (again)?

"Sincline…" She said crossing the small distance between them and reaching her hand up to stroke his cheek. The motion was gentle, almost loving, but when she spoke again her tone felt scathing. "That explains _so_ much!"

"What?" He raised one chalk white eyebrow in confusion.

…

The castle's sewage drained into a sizeable bog of refuse behind its south wall. The western edge of this bog drained into a small river called the Branduil, which flowed southwest before joining the Teglin, which was also called the Great River. However, this was not the way through which Ryou approached the castle. No, that was his planned escape rout. The Teglin flowed strait through the slums of Nargothrond where his freedom fighters had a safe house. At present Ryou approached Demon Castle from the north-east heading for a service access door used by technicians and their 'assistance' (slaves). The young rebel leader hoped to pass himself off as one of these assistance to gain access to the castle. He figured that if he could pass for a convincing Beastman he would make a pretty damn good slave too!

As it turned out, he didn't even have to put on an act. He reached the door just as a Galran tech was exiting with a pair of slaves. As Ryou drew nearer one of the slaves fumbled the tools she was carrying and they all went clattering to the ground. Both Ryou and the girl froze in momentary fear, the girl in terror of a reprimand for her clumsiness, Ryou in apprehension that he would be found out before he ever even got in the castle. Surely the Galran tech would notices that he left with two slaves but now seemed to have three. As it happened he did not notice. Instead he barked a colorful reprimand at the girl making sure to tell her that the only thing saving her from a 'good' beating was that he needed her to complete his work. He then jabbed a gnarled finger at Ryou and ordered him to help her pick up the tools.

He was delayed by actually accompanying the tech and his slaves to accomplish their task of repairing an external barometer. But after that was done he was let into the castle along with the other slaves and no one batted a scaly eyelid at him.

Ryou slipped away the first chance he got.

He had spent long hours studying the schematics and floor plans of Demon Castle with Amue, so much so that the maps were seemingly burned into the back of his mind forever. So while the twisting cavernous corridors were new and unfamiliar to his eyes, the young rebel had no trouble navigating them as if he were a regular visitor.

He assumed that Fala would be on one of the upper floors, the young rebel highly doubted that Sincline would give her free-reign of the castle. She had an uncanny knack for escaping and was always highly motivated to get away from him. The vile Emperor would most likely keep her locked in his harem or possibly even as far up as the royal residential wing. This presented the next hurtle for Ryou to concur. Getting up to the harem would be difficult but doable, getting up to the royal sweets would be damn-near impossible. While Ryou had familiarized himself with Imperial strategy, battle psychology, tactics, a small smattering of culture and schematics of starships, military outposts, factories and Demon Castle; he had not, however, studied the living habits or protocols of those living in the castle. He had no idea how he would get up to the royal suits covertly.

He supposed his best strategy would be to once again play the servant again and say he was running an errand for the Empress or something along those lines. Of course, knowing Sincline, he probably wouldn't allow Fala to have any male servants or slaves; jealous and possessive as he was. A human male running an errand for the Empress might look suspicious. But then again, nothing ventured, nothing gained as the old saying went. He was a man of action and not prone to giving up just because a plan had a few risks in it. He was already here and that was risky in and of itself. Might as well go the whole way.

Ryou turned down a corridor that, according to the schematics he'd studied back at base, would lead him to a service lift used by servants and slaves.

The lift seemed to be a large freight elevator, the normal polished brass or silvered-steel handlebars that decorated the public lifts of Demon castle were replaced with a single steel bar just above what would have been normal waist height for a Galran man. The lift walls were padded, presumably to protect whatever heavy, bulky or just oddly shaped cargo they might move through here. He keyed the lift to take him to Sincline's harem. The lift gave a lurch before evening out to a steady but shaky ascension. The lift gave a second lurch when it abruptly stopped at his chosen floor and the young rebel had to grip madly at the sidebar to maintain his balance.

He stepped out from the lift happy to be out in the open once again. Ryou never would have though he'd be happy to be exposed while within the walls of Demon Castle, but if it was a choice between the open corridor and the lurching, rickety service elevator, Ryou was going to go with the open corridor. That elevator just did not feel safe. He supposed the Galra didn't much care to maintain their servants lifts. Who cares if a few puny humans plummeted to a firy death? Slaves, just like lift-cars, could be replaced.

The young rebel marched purposefully down the hall as if he were on an important errand for his master. If a Galran passed him, he avoided eye contact and tried his best to look demure and submissive. If a Galran stopped him, he said he was on an important mission for his master and that his master would be angry if he was delayed. Overall, his presence did not go unnoticed, but he did go unheeded and that was just fine.

Ryou entered the harem through a servants' door and was greeted by a rising wave of screams and yelps of shock accented by the rustle of fabric and and jingle of metal cause by the many scrambling of many bare feet with silver and gold anklets and other such jewelry and baubles. One shrill female voice was even so bold as to exclaim "a man!" while another shushed her with the warning of "Sincline will be so furious if he finds out!"

"Uh… hi." The young rebel ventured apologetically. "If you could all just calm down. I'm, uh… If you could all just calm down, please. I'm looking for… ladies, please; I don't want to bring the guards down on me! I'M LOOKING FOR FALA!" He finally roared over their incessant noise.

The rustle and clamor subsided slightly. The one whom had shushed her companion earlier quieted the others down. She then focused her attention on the mysterious intruder.

"The Empress?" She asked. "Why're you looking here?"

"Why not?" Ryou shot back. So, she wasn't in the harem. That meant that he must be keeping her up in the residential wing. Damn it! That was going to be hard to get to.

"He doesn't keep her here." The woman said shortly.

"Where is she then?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Up in the tower, where he lives." She answered. "Now, you'll answer me some questions. First, what are you doing here? If the guards find a man in here we'll _all_ be killed. Sincline doesn't like other people touching his things. Secondly, who are you?"

"I already told you: I'm looking for Princess Fala of Altea. I'm Shirogane Ryou, leader of the rebellion and friend of the Golion team."

"Golion!" Another female voice exclaimed. A thin waif-like woman slipped out from behind the others and looked at him with impassioned eyes but an unreadable expression. She had the olive skin and dark curly hair of the people who lived along the Mediterranean on Earth. Ryou had never actually been to that area before Galra's conquest of the planet, but he had seen pictures and seeing this girl made him suddenly very home-sick. Then she snarled at him, "What has Golion ever done for us!"

"What?" Ryou blinked, aghast.

"Quiet, Cal." The firs woman hissed.

But Cal didn't quiet down. "All that time we heard of the great and powerful Golion from Altea, saving all those other planets under Galra's thumb, it was a great ray of hope for all of us. Then I find out that the Golion pilots aren't Altean at all, they're from Earth, just like me! They're from Earth and they have this great weapon that could liberate other planets from Galran rule but they never once tried to go back and save Earth! They never once tried to free their home! Instead they risk their lives for complete strangers while their brothers and sisters of Earth suffer under Galra's thumb!"

"Stop it, Cal." The woman said again.

And Cal did stop this time. She stopped her rant about Golion and crossed the room to where there was a an intercom fixed to the wall.

"What are you doing!" Both Ryou and the woman gasped in unison.

Cal pressed the intercom button and screamed in to the microphone, "Yeeeeaaaah! Guards! Guards, there's a man in here! Help! Help!"

The woman rushed forward and smacked her across the face before pushing her away form the intercom. "You little idiot!" She roared. "Now we're all dead for your spite!"

Ryou, for his part was already making his escape. He dashed out of the harem through the same servants' door through which he had come and made a b-line for the service lift. The guards, of course, figured that this would be his preferred escape rout and headed him off, taking an alternate passage that hadn't been on the rebel's schematics of the castle and blocking his path. The young rebel leader suddenly found himself trapped in the corridor with guards in front of him, guards behind him and walls on either side. He supposed he could make a dash into one of the rooms that lead off the hall, but then he'd just be trapped in a room instead of a corridor. Ryou bit the inside of his cheek and contemplated the age of dilemma of the rock and the hard-place.

"I surrender!" He threw his arms up in defeat. If he couldn't escape right now, he could at least stave off his own death long enough to formulate a new escape plan.

"Place your hands on the back of your head and get down on the ground." A gruff female voice commanded. So, Sincline's harem guards were female, of course they were female. Ryou did as he was told and laid flat on his belly with his hands on his head and his legs parted slightly.

Ryou could almost feel their guns fixed on him as he heard booted feet draw nearer to his prone form. A comm. clicked and the same gruff female voice said, "This is First Lieutenant Arna. We have apprehended an intruder on the harem floor. Looks like he might be with the rebels. Request Captain Nera's presence at interrogation."

…

Ryou was surprised when they were joined in the castle dungeons by not only another female Galran wearing the two silver stripes of a Captain, presumably Captain Nera; but also by Sincline himself.

"_Sincline_!" Ryou snarles.

While at the same time all the guards went to their knees with a soft murmur of, "Your Eminence."

The Emperor waved for them to stand without so much as looking at the women, his attention was fixed on Ryou.

"Well, well, well…" He grinned a maliciously gleeful smile that showed his intimidating sharp fangs. (Ryou was not impressed.) "Little Shirogane-chan… Don't tell me you came looking for revenge for your brother. I would have though that the leader of the rebellion was smarter than that."

"Leader?" First Lieutenant Arna exclaimed.

"Yes. Nera, please recommend Arna to the selection board for promotion." The Emperor said as a passing though. He then focused his attention back on the prisoner. "So, Ryou, you are neither suicidal nor a fool –although, I do question those assessments sometimes. But you never do anything without good reason, so, I find myself wondering: What would prompt you to sneak into my harem in the middle of my castle? I imagine you must be starved for a female attention now that your Heraclesian-whore is gone, but I know you have other women in that pathetic little rout of yours. So what would bring you here…?"

"Amue is not a whore!" Ryou snapped at him and spat at the tyrannical half-breed's feet.

"Oh, how cute." Sincline allowed himself another smile. He then continued, "My next though then is that you had planned to lay there in wait for me, to kill me. All the women there hate me and would probably be happy to help you out in an assassination plot. And with me gone that would create a power-vacuum that would tear my Empire apart. You could destroy Galra with a single flick of the wrist and no help from Golion. Shirogane Ryou, hero of the galaxy. But you see, before I came here, Nera and I stopped over at my harem to question the girls myself and they had the most interesting to say. Do you know what they told me, Ryou?"

He did not respond.

"They said you had come looking for Fala." Sincline continued, not at all perturbed by the rebel's silence. "Now, why would you be doing that, I wonder…? To 'rescue' her? To 'kidnap' her and my unborn child? Oh, yes, she is pregnant, Ryou. I wonder… does Kogane know? Oh! I would _love_ to be in the room when he finds out! Just to see his face! I wonder what he would say..?"

Ryou glared at the villain for long moments before saying, "I want _Fala_ to tell me its true."

"You impudent rat!" First Lieutenant Arna smacked him across the face. "You dare make demands on His Eminence. As if he would expose his _ardan_ to-"

"Arna, go bring Fala down here." Sincline ordered.

"Wah-what?" The woman stuttered.

"Do as you're told." Captain Nera snapped at her.

Arna left.

"Nera, retract that recommendation for the promotion of First Lieutenant Arna." Sincline said as a passing thought after she had left.

The three of then, Emperor, Captain and prisoner passed long moments in awkward silence. Ryou had the irrational urge to strike up a conversation with his captors if for no other reason than to fill the empty silence.

Arna eventually returned with the Empress whom, upon seeing him, exclaimed, "Ryou!" and rushed to his side.

"Oh my God! Are you alright?" She asked. "They haven't hurt you, have they? What are you doing here? Did something happen to Amue? Did something happen to Kogane? The team? Oh God! What is it?"

"Uh… everyone's fine, to the best of my knowledge." He said once she had quieted down. "I actually came her for you. Is it true? Are you…?" He tailed off.

Fala's eyes fell downcast. He hadn't finished the question but then again he didn't have to. She knew what he was referring to. "Yes. Its true. Has Kogane heard? Is that why you're here? Why hasn't he come himself?"

"Oh, yes, why hasn't he come to rescue his beloved princess?" Sincline cut in. "I'm also very interested in the answer to that question. Could it be that he's moved on to another princess, a more… _experienced_ princess." He flashed another one of those malicious smiles of his.

"You bastard!" Ryou tried to launch himself at the heterogynous hybrid but his restraints only allowed him the smallest of movements. Sincline merely laughed as the Earth-born freedom fighter pulled at his chains in a vain attempt to get to the Emperor.

Their attention was brought back to Fala, however, when the Empress asked in a tiny voice just above a whisper, "So, he doesn't know then? None of them know?" Before waiting for a response Fala seized Ryou by the shoulders. "You can't tell him!" She said, she hadn't used his name, but everyone knew to whom she was referring. "You can't! It would just destroy him! He can't know… he can't…"

"Hm, yes… it would destroy him, wouldn't it…" Sincline pondered allowed, a thought occurring to him.

"Arna, take the prisoner out drop him off at an area of his choosing."

"What?" First Lieutenant Arna blinked.

"What?" Fala looked up in amazement.

"Why?" Ryou asked, eyes narrowing.

"Why, so you can get the message out to your friends on Heracles, of course." Sincline said as if this should have been obvious. "As my lovely wife said: the news would just _destroy_ Kogane Akira."

"Sincline…" Fala stood.

"You should be happy my dear, I'm sparing his life."

Fala closed her mouth, whatever she was going to say stayed unsaid.

"Your Eminence," Nera ventured uneasily, "I'm not sure this is a wise decision. He is the leader of the on-planet rebellion; it would be better to kill him here and now. Then their little band would dissolve."

"Nera, you're opinion is noted. Arna, if you please."

First Lieutenant Arna unfastened Ryou's bonds from the wall and refastened them behind his back before leading him out of the room.

…

(A/N1: Oh, look, plot! We haven't seen that in a while.)

(A/N2: Sincline is an idiot.)

(A/N3: I am currently going through a rather difficult move out of state at the moment and haven't really had time to write much. Sorry for taking so long with this latest update, but be warned, the next one might take even longer. Sorry about that, but life happens, ya know.)


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Twenty-Five:

Calista Spiteri sat in the Emperor's office awaiting his return to 'deal' with her. At first Cal had been terrified when he'd ordered her separated from the other girls after hearing their explanation of the incident with the intruder. She had feared that the others were right and she had made a last mistake of her life in calling the guards down on them and turning the young rebel in. But that had been a little over an hour ago and she wasn't dead yet.

Sincline and the Captain of his Empress' royal guard (formerly in charge of the harem guard) had gone down to the dungeons to interrogate him. Shirogane Ryou, the Japanese born space-pilot turned slave, turned rebel leader was about to be turned into history. But Cal had not been carted off to the dungeons with him, nor had she been taken to wherever the rest of the guards had taken the other harem girls. No, she had been sequestered and lead to the Emperor's office where she was instructed to wait.

So, here she was waiting.

Cal rubbed her hands over her bare shoulders in an effort to work some heat into them. It was a tad bit colder in here than it had been in the harem and her attire wasn't exactly designed to protect the wearer against the elements (not that there were really any 'elements' in the Imperial Office). She found herself adjusting the thin semi-transparent material over her legs in an attempt to cover her knees and wished desperately that she were wearing over her chest than just a gold bra with silk fringe. The guards could have at least provided her with a robe or some sort when they lead her out of the harem.

Minuets ticked by and Cal went over her short conversation with Shirogane Ryou in her head for what must have been the dozenth time that hour.

'_What has Golion ever done for us?'_ She had demanded of him.

But he hadn't answered her question. The leader of the rebellion against the Empire and close friend of the pilot team whom controlled Golion and he couldn't answer her simple question: _'What had Golion ever done for "us", for the people of Earth?' _Instead, Ryou had just stammered out a short, "What?"

As if he were confused by her question. As if the idea had never occurred to him.

Golion was supposed to be a great and noble champion of freedom and justice and peace and prosperity and all that fluffy, hippie good stuff. While in the harem she had had to comfort Sincline, her planet's conquer while he whined and moaned about how Golion had 'stolen' this planet or that planet from his Empire. She head time and again of how the seemingly invincible giant robot had liberated planet after planet and people after people from Galran control but never once did she ever hear any mention of her own home planet. Never once did she hear any tell that Golion had tried to save Earth. Earth, the planet that Golion's very pilots had come from, were born on, grew up on, trained on.

The betrayal was two fold in her opinion. Once because they would help other's but not Earth and twice because Earth was their home planet and it seemed like they had forgotten it. So, when the young rebel, also from Earth, had shown up in the harem looking to rescue the Empress (or whatever it was he was doing) and preaching the name of Golion like some infallible savior descended from on-high, she had just snapped. All of her anger and frustration and rage over her own subjugation and service as a pleasure slave, all her hurt and spite for an empty hope in a hollow hero, she had focused it all on Ryou and called the guards down on him.

Sitting here in the Emperor's office, she wondered if she had done the right thing. If by betraying the rebel leader to the castle guards she had effectively aligned herself with Galra and turned her back on her own race forever. Then she reminded herself that she was just a common whore and no one cared about her political affiliations anyway. What did it matter if a whore loved or loather her master? Her legs still spread as wide. So what did it matter if she threw her lot in with the rebels or with Galra, she would still die all the same. In the end, everyone died. That was the only truth that mattered.

Cal's morbid thoughts were cut short when the office door was opened and Captain Nera stepped aside, holding it open for the Emperor.

Cal sat up strait but tried to look demure at the same time, averting her eyes as he passed the chain in which she sat and flopped down at his desk. He leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on the desk.

"Well, this has been an exciting day." He commented.

Cal was not sure if she was expected to respond or not. Lately he had been forbidding the women of the harem to speak at all.

"Nera, this is the one who called Arna?"

"Yes, Your Eminence."

Cal folded and unfolded her hands in her lap, not at all liking being discussed as if she were a cat that could neither speak for itself nor understand what was being said about her. But then, she was just a slave. What could she do or say that would not bring a punishment down upon her?

"Do you speak Galran, girl?" The Emperor asked and for the first time since he entered, Cal dared to look up at his face. His expression was not that of the frustrated and often angry man he often was when he came to the harem. No, the Emperor Sincline that now sat looking at her over his feet on the desk looked self-satisfied and… amused?

"I… I speak a little." She answered dutifully.

"And who taught you how to speak?"

"I just sort of picked it up after a while." She replied. "From listening to the guards."

"Funny how many people learn the language from their guards." He said in a sardonically amused tone, his eyes momentarily flicking to Captain Nera who stood behind her.

"If… if you say so, my Master." She replied, not sure if he wanted a response from her or not.

"What is your name, girl?"

"Calista." She answered obediently. "It means 'great beauty' where I'm from."

"I don't care." The Emperor snapped back, then in a more moderated and business-like tone he asked, "And you were the one who called the guards on Shirogane Ryou. Why?"

"Because…" Here she faltered, unsure of how to explain herself and her actions in few words. His Eminence hated long explanations and she feared to annoy him with talk of her _feelings_ on the matter.

"Come now, its an easy question: Why did you turn in the rebel leader, Shorgane Ryou? You must have had a reason, even animals have reasons for their actions."

Hearing him compare her to an animal rekindled her anger from earlier and she bit out, "Because he barged in there preaching the name of Golion like a fucking golden banner of truth and justice and it annoyed me! Golion is just a machine, _a thing_! A thing controlled by a bunch of guys who _apparently_ don't give a flying fuck for their own home world! I raised the alarm on Ryou because I don't like fuckers who hide behind pretty words and high ideals but do show anything for them."

To this the Emperor simply raised an eyebrow. He steepled his fingers in the posture of though, and gazed over the toes of his shoes at her.

"Nera, how long has this girl been in my harem?" He asked at length.

"Two years." Both women replied in unison.

He sat for another moment, considering. Then, "You years is an incredible amount of foresight on Ryou's part to get a plant close to me. I wish I had known this earlier to congratulate him."

"Huh?" Cal blinked in total and utter confusion.

"Nera, take our little miss Calista here down to the Pit of Skulls and shoot her."

"What!" Forgetting her place in the horror and fear that his words provoked in her, Cal shot to her feet. "Why! I served you! I was a good whore! I was obedient! I always did what you wanted! I… I betrayed the rebels for you! When Ryou showed up I could have kept quiet like the others and hid him, but I didn't! I chose a side and it was your side and now you want to shoot me!"

"Hm, you're a very good actress." Sincline nodded in approval. "Nera, you may give her a painless death. Shoot her in the head."

"But, I-"

"Permission to speak freely, Your Eminence?" The Captain asked.

"Granted."

"This is not the first time I've witnessed a human express negative sentiments towards Golion and by extension, its pilots." Nera explained calmly. She came up closer behind Cal and put what might possibly have been a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. She may be the Empress' personal guard now, but she had once been in charge of guarding the harem and just might have formed an attachment to the girls in it. Maybe. "Her Majesty's human doctor, the woman Naisha, also expressed feelings of betrayal upon hearing that the Golion pilots were from Earth. It was apparently her home planet as well."

"I… see…" Sincline once again looked thoughtful. "And you, girl… Calista, where are you from?"

"Earth, my Master." She answered obediently. "A town called Kiveri in Greece."

"And is this… spite for Golion a common feeling among the Earthling slaves?" The Emperor pressed. There was an odd light behind his eyes as if he'd just gotten an idea that was both brilliant and malicious.

"I… I don't you, Master. Most of the other girls in the harem that were from Earth kinda thought the same thing. But the ones from Jarra and Mura turned their opinion a bit when we heard that their homes had been fre- um, captured from the Empire."

"And you're opinion of Golion did not improve upon hearing this?"

"I though if Golion could _capture_ other planets from the Empire, why couldn't they capture Earth."

"And where do you hear all this news?" The Emperor asked, his eyes narrowing at her. "You're not allowed to leave the harem and I doubt you socialize with your guards. From where did you learn what Golion was doing all this time?"

"From… from you, my Master." Cal once again averted her eyes and looked submissive and demure. "When you would come to us angry and frustrated after an encounter with Golion. You would shout and scream and rage about it and demand we comfort you. All that we know about what goes on outside the harem we learned from you."

The Emperor looked as if she had just slapped him in the face and Cal wondered if he was going to go ahead and kill her himself, right here and now in his office. It would not be the first time he killed one of his harem slaves for no good reason. He had been more prone to it in the old days before he became obsessed with the Altean princess whom was now his wife, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't still do it now.

Finally, after a prolonged pause Sincline growled, "You're dismissed."

Nera escorted Cal out of the office.

"Are you going to kill me now?" The girl asked in a trembling voice.

"He said you were dismissed." The Captain replied. "That means he has other plans for you."

While back in his office, Sincline called up one of his aids and asked for a census of every slave on the planet that included each slave's planet of origin. The poor aid nearly fell out of his chair when he heard the Emperor's order. A complete census of every slave on planet Galra was a huge undertaking and would be a nightmare to organize.

Then the Emperor said he wanted it completed and on his desk by the end of the current lunar cycle and the poor aid really did fall out of his chair.

…

First Lieutenant Arna did not take Ryou very far. The Emperor had ordered her to leave him where he asked and rebel had asked to be left on the banks of the Teglin. So, the Lieutenant ordered the car pull over along one of the steeper edges of the Branduil's bank (which eventually joined with the Teglin) and Ryou was pitched into the water, his hands still bound behind his back.

He kicked his legs madly in an attempt to keep his head above the surface of the putrid sewage-filled water as the river's strong current swept him south towards the Teglin. The Branduil was the only body of water that passed almost right next to the castle and as such, it was also what the castle emptied it waste into. The waterway widened for a few leagues where it joined the Great River and the water cleared slightly, the current also slowed long enough for Ryou to establish a rhythm treading water for air, resting and letting the current carry him and then bringing himself back up for air. If the Space Academy hadn't drilled such great endurance into him back on Earth, the former space-pilot was sure he would have drowned (as he was also sure had been the Galran woman's plan for him).

The Teglin turned west towards Nargothrond and as Ryou neared the city the banks of the river became less jagged and wild, instead showing signs of once having fishing docked stretching out into it or paved in places to as to lower a boat into the water. But none of it was maintained, the docks were cracked and crumbling, buts of them swayed in the current, the only thing keeping them from sailing away with the stream being s bit of old fishing line or other such lingering garbage. The paved areas likewise showed their share of wear and tear with cracks and breaks in the concrete, water damage, discoloration and erosion.

As the first few buildings began appearing, Ryou flailed his legs and slowly treaded over to the southern bank. The rebel safe-house he had intended to go to ground in after his 'escape' from Demon Castle wouldn't appear for a while, but when he reached it, it would be on the south bank.

The farther he was carried into the city that dirtier that water once again became. But unlike the Branduil, which was mostly just fecal and food waste, this city's river pollution also sported oils, pesticides, bleaches, textile dyes and other various domestic and industrial toxins. So, in addition to a plethora of bacterial infections, he might now also have cancer. Giggidy!

When the areas he passed began to look shabbier and more economically depressed Ryou began trying to hook his bound hands on whatever hand holds he could find on the bank in order to allow himself a moment or two to better study the city. He didn't want to over-shoot the safe house and draw more attention to himself by backtracking along the bank, dripping wet, covered in shit and chemicals with his hands behind his back. Even in the slums of Nargothrond someone would think that was a little strange. After studying the bank and the buildings for a moment or two he would decide that it was still just a bit father down stream and let go of his hand-hold to continue drifting. He did this several times before smacking into a makeshift dock that extended out into the river.

It was two long (and uncomfortably hard) steel beams that looked like they might have been salvaged from a crashed star-cutter. They had been lashed together to form a narrow walkway that cut out into the water at a diagonal angle following the river's current. It was held afloat by several bowies that were make either from salvaged styrofoam or inflated plastic bags. Ryou was quite sure that if anyone larger or heavier than a goose feather attempted to actually walk on the thing that they would sink into the river and be swept away with the current. For this reason he was utterly dumbfounded as to what the hell this thing might be actually used for.

But it had stopped him long enough for his to once again get his bearings and the young rebel leader found that he was, in fact, rather close to his destination. Close enough to risk a walk of solid ground even!

With the dock on one side preventing him from drifting further down stream, Ryou wiggled and wormed his way up the filthy concrete bank, trying his best not to think about what he might be thrashing around in. When he got back to base he was going to burn all his clothes and his hair and shower for a solid week!

Once he got to the top of the bank standing up became a bit of an issue. He never quite realized just how much he used his hands until they were suddenly bound behind his back and he was robed of the use of them. After falling back down onto his knees or ass a few times, the rebel leader finally claimed a standing position and a fraction of dignity. He was exhausted, wet, his hands were still bound, he was covered in shit and who knew what else from the river, but he was vertical. That had to count for something, right?

On his feet Ryou trudged the few paces from his river birth to the building he was fairly certain was the safe house. His books made a nauseating squish sound with every step he took and a chill wind blew between the buildings making him shiver. But he made it to the door without incident. Unable to use his hands, Ryou banged his shoulder against the door three times, waited and then banged his should two more times, waited again and then banged one final time. He then added the consumption of several aspirin to his list of things to do after burning his clothes and showering.

A small panel in the door at human eye-level was slid open and a quiet voice asked, "One, plus one, plus one, plus one, plus one…?"

"Golion." Ryou hissed in answer. This little cloak and dagger secret code thing had been Amue's idea. In theory it had sounded pretty good at the time. In practice, he decided it was stupid.

The panel was slid shut and the door was opened and Ryou was greeted with warm air and dim light. The quiet voice that had spoken to him through the panel turned out to belong to a small girl whom, while short lithe, could not have been much younger than fourteen.

"Where you followed?" The girl asked in her still very quiet voice as she shut the door back behind him and silently bolted it shut.

"Followed? No." He responded. "But I'm sure there's got to be a tracer on me. Some place the river wouldn't have been likely to wash it off of."

"Probably the cuffs." She nodded. Crossing the room, the girl knelt in a corner of the floor and lifted a small square tile to reveal an emergency-cash. Inside was contained a small bare-minimum first-aid kit, food rations, some money, a blaster pistol and spare power pack and lock-breaking tools. It was this small pouch of lock breaking tools that she reached for. She returned to Ryou. "Turn around. They've been adding traces to their cuffs recently. That way, on the off chance that a prisoner does escape they can track them down to kill them or let them go to lead them to bigger prey."

"Clever." He commented. "So they're not using stickies anymore?"

"They still might as a decoy or something. There!"

Ryou sighed as the tight metal cuffs around his wrists was slipped off. He turned around to thank the girl but before he got the chance to she shoved the cuffs back onto his hands.

"Attach those to something that floats and throw them back in the river."

As he was exiting the building to carry out the girls instruction, Ryou found himself wondering if she knew she was ordering around the leader of the on-planet rebellion against Galra (or if she would even care). Women in his little militia he'd noticed had a rather annoying tendency to disregard authority with a sort of casual 'we're all friends here' sort of attitude. He blamed it on Amue. Before she showed up they were a small but well-organized guerrilla army. Now they felt more like a club that would pull a prank and cause a bit of a ruckus for their rivals every now and again.

Ryou returned to the makeshift dock and pulled off a fist-sized piece of styrofoam. He attacked the cuffs to it and lobbed it down stream as had as he could. He stood there, watching it drift for a moment or two longer until her could no longer see it in the ever-dark of the planet.

When he returned to the safe-house, Ryou found the girl sitting quite calmly with her back to the far wall and the blaster-pistol from the cash in her hand. She trained to weapon on Ryou and said in an almost casual voice, "And now we get to play Q&A. I'll go first. How did you know about this place?"

"I was on the committee that decided this would be a good hideout." He responded with an equal amount of casualness.

"Small committee." The girl commented. "So, who are you?"

"Shirogane Ryou." He paused for dramatic effect. He had been the one to start the rebellion. Organizing the small pockets of escaped slaves into an organized fighting team. He expected everyone to know his name.

The girl just squinted at him in the dim lighting. "Oh! You mean Princess Amue's assistant!"

"_W-what!"_ His relationship with the Heraclesian princess could be described with many words, friend, comrade, rescuer, hero… but none of them were 'assistant'. If anything, Amue was _his_ assistant. He was the one that started the rebellion in the first place! He was the one who rescued her from the Pit of Skulls when Sincline dragger her out there to be shot. He was the real hero of the rebellion! Ryou took a deep breath and tried to swallow his suddenly hurt pride. In all fairness, Heracles was footing the bill for most of their efforts. They were sneaking in food, weapons and medical supplies that the rebellion would have been lost without. In all actuality, the rebellion would have died out long ago if it hadn't been for Amue. He didn't mind sharing power with her. He rather wished he could share much more with her, actually. "I am not Amue's assistant. She and I are partners."

"Uh-huh." The girl nodded. Then she smiled. "My big brother was on your team when Amue stole a Galran freighter. During that mission you, or rather the real Shirogane Ryou, gave Princess Amue a message that had nothing to do with the mission. Can you tell me what was said?"

Ryou felt his face flush at the mention of his parting words to the Heraclesian princess and he knew that he must have turned a bright shade of beet red. He just _had _to go and confess something deeply emotional and very private in the middle of a mission right in front of his team and Amue's crew. Oh what a fool he had been! A battle field was no place for fluffy emotions and pretty words, what had he been thinking?

He had been thinking that one or both of them might die before they got the chance to see each other again. That's what he'd been thinking. If they never got to see each other again for the rest of the lives, however long or short that turned out to be, he wanted Amue to know how he felt. Gritting his teeth and trying not to think about what her response to his confession had been the rebel leader answered, "I told her what I thought of her."

"And that was…?" The girl pressed. "Come now, only the real Shirogane Ryou would know what he said."

"Then how would you know if I'm lying or not?" Ryou shot back.

The girl only smiled. When he got back to the main base he was going to find out just who from his team was this little imp's brother and beat the crap out of him! "I told her that I loved her! Over the moon, crazy in love. And she just nodded and said that she knew. She knew I was nuts over her and didn't care!"

…

Sincline entered the lift back up to the royal residential suits feeling tired but satisfied. He'd had just begun the first few steps of a plan that he was rather optimistic about. Not just optimistic about finally defeating Golion (actually, he was rather pessimistic about that little detail) but he was very optimistic about the direction this new plan might lead the Empire. It would certainly cut the loss of grunt soldiers in half (depending on what you counted as a 'grunt soldier') and just might also weaken the on-planet rebellion. Yes, Sincline was a little mentally exhausted but very pleased with himself. He stepped off the lift with a smile on his face, but paused in his step, that smile melting into a frown when he saw his wife waiting for him.

She was leaning against the door to his chambers reading a datapad. She looked up as the lift door slid shut behind him and stood.

"I've been waiting for you." She said, tucking the datapad under one arm and crossing the distance between them.

"And why would you do a thing like that?" He asked.

"I… I've been thinking." Here Fala fidgeted, shifting the datapad from under her arm to in her hands again. She fiddled with it in the same way a factory worker might fiddle with his hat when asking a favor of his boss. She did not meat his eyes when she said, "You were right, back there when you let Ryou go. You spared his life. You could have just killed him right then and there. You probably should have even, but you didn't. You did it for selfish reasons. You want to hurt Kogane and that bothers me. But Kogane would find out sooner or latter anyway. I guess what I'm trying to say is… what I mean with all this rambling is… I'm trying to say… _thank you_."

Sincline remained silent in the wake of this unexpected and unlikely sentiment from her.

She looked up at him then and said again in a clear voice without stumbling, "Thank you for sparing Ryou. He's my friend and I would have been very sad if you had killed him."

The Emperor considered her words and the earnestness of her tone and decided that this must be some sort of 'peace offering' from her.

"I expect you never would have forgiven me either." He said.

"No, I probably never would have forgiven you." She agreed. "Not if you killed any one of my friends in front of me."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing I let him go."

"Yes." She nodded.

An awkward silence fell over them after that. Neither knew what to say after that and nether was sure if they should say anything. Sincline wondered if it would be all right if he just brushed past her to his chambers. He was tired and wanted to have to bit of a lay-down and a night-cap. Fala fidgeted as if she wanted to say more, but her lips remained sealed, pursed in a tight line of nervous indecision.

"What were you reading?" The Emperor asked in an attempt to break the awkward silence.

"Oh this?" Fala fumbled with the datapad, dropping it on the ground between their feet. Sincline reached down to pick it up for her. He was feeling accommodating for some reason. "Its just a collection of children's stories I've been reading. Just something to pass the time while you wait."

He tapped the screen to wake the device up out of its 'sleep mode' and scanned over the page she had been reading when he arrived. "I don't remember this being one of the books I provided for you. Is this something Nera smuggled in?"

"Don't say it like that." Fala snapped and pulled the datapad from his hands. "Nera's been very nice to me which is far more than I can say for _you_. I don't see anything wrong with her lending me a book or two."

"And teaching you things without my knowledge." He reminded her.

"Teaching me _your language_." She reminded him in turn. "Its not like she's been giving me pointers on how to disarm and evade you."

"Which is the only reason why I have not punished her."

They glared at one another for moments after that. Even when they were trying to make peace they still somehow always ended up arguing. How did that always happen?

"So, you're reading children's stories." Sincline decided to change the subject. "Could this mean that your opinion of our child has shifted?" Perhaps he sounded just a little two hopeful.

"No." A flat, firm, even negative. "No, my opinion of this thing hasn't changed. Nera lent me this anthology so I could practice my reading and that's all I'm doing with them."

Her husband looked crestfallen.

"Well then," he said in a mock chipper voice. "In that case, I demand that you read to me. Show me how much you've learned."

…

Ryou wrapped a towel around his waist as he exited the showers.

Before Amue had officially joined up with his rebellion the best anyone could hope for would have been a bowl of water and a rag. After Heracles started funding their cause, however, they got portable show modules with hot and cold water. The rebels had to fill the modules' tanks themselves (usually with water from the Teglin) but everyone was grateful for them all around. They had hollowed out a chamber in the cave network that made-up their main base and set the modules up in there, dorm-style. In some ways it was like being back at the Academy on Earth.

No one batted an eyelash at him as we navigated his way from the showers back to his own room wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Everyone was to busy to notice or care, they all had their own missions, errand or just personal business to attend to. Yup, it was just like being back in the Academy dorms. Except here men and women got to cohabitate.

When he reached his room, Ryou threw off the towel and flopped down naked on his bedroll. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to take a nap. But he couldn't sleep just yet. There was still one final task to do before his mission was truly complete. Reluctantly, he pulled himself back up, pulled on a clean shirt and sat down at his desk to record his report for Amue and the Golion team. He knew the news of Fala's pregnancy would devastate Kogane, that fact had been the thing that had saved his life. Coming from the Galran news media he may not believe or could convince himself that it wasn't true and continue to carry on. But coming from Ryou, coming from Takashi's younger brother, from a friend and ally… then Kogane couldn't deny it. He would have to face the reality of it.

With a sobering sigh Ryou reached for a blank autoreader and began recording his message.

…

"… and he called that- this I mean, he called this t-treasure his _sindariin_." Fala finally finished with a huff. She had thought that her reading abilities were rather good, but being made to read aloud showed her just how far she still had to go. Reading silently to herself she caught the meaning of the words without having to know and understand all the actual words. Reading aloud she had to actually know what characters made what sounds and not just what their meanings were. It was surprisingly frustrating. But what made it all worse was the Sincline didn't tease her once! Instead he sat smiling every time she made a mistake. "There! I'm done. I read to you. Are you happy now?"

"Oh, very!" Her husband nodded, that same annoying smile plastered across his features.

Fala slouched on the sofa, not giving a damn as to whether or not it was 'lady-like'. All she had done was read a short little children's story, but for some reason she felt like she had just run a mile… in heals… uphill… both ways! (Whatever the hell that meant.)

Sincline stood and pored himself a glass of _yarbarah_. "Do you remember, I once said I was curious to know what you might think of some of our Galran proverbs?" He asked, coming back to sit on the couch next to her. "A story is a bit more than a proverb, but I'm still very interested in your interpretation of it. And please," he added, "don't just say something like 'its barbaric'. We've established that. I want to hear something new."

His wife just glared at him. "Jeez, I feel like I'm back in school!" She grumbled. "First you make me read and now you're making me analyze it! _You're worse than Raible!"_

He merely chuckled and sipped his blood-wine.

Fala let out another groan and drew her knees up to her chest, thinking. This had been the second time around she had read _The Sindariin_. She had chosen it to read to Sincline because it was short and because she had already read it once so it would (theoretically) be easier to read aloud. She had to admit that reading it a second time, it was a bit easier to understand as well. (Either that, or her general comprehension had improved.)

It was a story about a spoiled and rotten prince who couldn't take rejection and let vengence cloud his judgment. In any Altean story he would be a villain, but the prince of _The Sindariin_ was the hero. That just did not make sense to Fala. How could any society promote hate, vengeance, pride and scorn as good behaviors to their children? Then she though about the ending, how he suddenly and magically regretted what he did and was happy with the little piece of whatever-it-was that he found in the castle's wreckage. So… maybe the prince's behavior up until that point wasn't what the story was supposed to be teaching but rather the whole lesson was in the paragraph at the end. So… did that mean that the actual story itself was pointless?

"I think…" She began slowly. "I think the story is trying to teach the lesson that you should be satisfied with the things you have and not covet what others have." She chanced a glance up at Sincline to see if she was right or not but she didn't know how to interpret his interested expression and so focused her eyes back on the coffee table and continued. "At the beginning it says that his brother was made heir instead of him. But he wanted a kingdom so he went out looking for one. In the end he has less than what he started off with but he's happier. So, the moral of the story is to be happy with the things that you do have and not be jealous of the things that you don't have."

She looked up at Sincline again.

He just sipped his wine and continued to study here.

"Well?" She finally demanded. "Say something."

"Wrong." He smiled. "Completely and totally wrong. But an interesting take. Its exactly what I'd expect from someone coming from a soft and lovey-dovey culture like Altea."

"Oh?" Fala was suddenly irritated. "Then why don't you tell me what the actual Galran moral of the story is?"

Sincline sipped his wine lazily, drawing out her frustration before setting the now empty glass down and saying, "The point, my wife, is that a victory is still a victory even if you didn't get quite what you wanted and victories are meant to be enjoyed."

He stood and offered her a hand to help her to her feet as well. Fala accepted the hand in confusion and climbed to her feet. He lead them away from the sitting area to a small open space in the room and twirled her around as if dancing to music only he could here.

"The prince didn't get the kingdom or the woman that he wanted." He said. "I don't have your affection or your _arda_. But the prince was still able to conquer an entire kingdom with just a small militia; he even got a bit of treasure for it. I still have you as my wife and I've even got an heir on the way when I thought I couldn't have children. The prince didn't get what he wanted out of his victory, but he was still the victor and that's why he's happy. I didn't get exactly what I want from you, but I still have you and so I'm… satisfied."

He swept them around in a wide arch before dipping her and then repeating the step.

"I think you just gave the exact same interpretation that I gave just in different words." Fala commented as she aloud herself to be lead in his unfamiliar dance steps. She had no idea Sincline could dance. She's certainly never _seen_ him dance. He had surprisingly good rhythm.

"I disagree, but think whatever you like." He shrugged and twirled her again. "To be honest, _The Sindariin_ is not my favorite story. As far as children's tales go, the story of Aradianya and the Five Colored Dolls is much more entertaining. Its longer though, it might be a bit above you."

"Is that a challenge?" Fala growled.

"Interpret it however you like." He ended their little dance and stepped back from her. "Anyway, I'm tired. I've had an eventful day and I just want to lie down. I expect you're sick of my presence as well. You're dismissed."

She turned to leave but paused in mid-step. Turning back to face him, she fidgeted as she had done in the corridor, her lips pursed in a tight line of nervous indecision.

"What is it now?" He asked.

"I was also thinking… While I was waiting for you earlier, I mean. I was thinking maybe if you… maybe if you can keep up this 'niceness' that you started today by letting Ryou go I might… No, I _will_ be willing to… to, um…" Her cheeks colored a bright shade of pink. "To do some 'not-real-sex' for you. I'd be willing to perform sexual favors for you."

She averted here eyes, not wanting to see his reaction to her words. Fala scooped up her datapad and dashed out of the room before he had the chance to grab her or whatever else she feared he might do.

…

(A/N: Okay, so I've been procrastinating on packing which is not good. But it gave me the time to write this latest chapter which I suppose is good. I'm moving from California to Tennessee and the logistics for it have just been one big headache after another. I am especially worried about taking my cat on the plain with me. I'll have to arrive at the airport two hours (or more) before the flight and then the flight itself is three hours and then it'll be another two or three hour drive from the airport to the town I'm moving to. Rawrrr! My poor little baby-cat! –cry- That's to long for her to be trapped in a box!)


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron or its original Japanese version Golion. Both are the property of their original creators and/or importers/dubbers. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.

The Sindariin

Chapter Twenty-Six:

Amue tilted her face up to the shower's welcome spray. She savored the feel of the warm water as it dampened her hair, making the long blond tresses stick to the curves of her shapely body. Turning, she moved so that her back could appreciate the same soothing warmth and she sighed as she felt some of the muscle fatigue from her training session that day relax out of her. After this she planned on filling her tub and taking a long luxurious soak. There was nothing better after a rough day than a clean shower and soft bath.

She rubbed foamy sweet-smelling soap over her breasts and shoulders, massaging her neck as she did so. As she worked her way around the tips of her delicate well-manicured fingers brushed the edges of scars she had there. Amue never spoke of her time as Sincline's prisoner, no one knew of the kind of treatment she had received from him, they could only guess. She had not been intimate with a man since Sincline and often wondered if she might _never_ find pleasure in a man's touch because of him. Not even Ryou, as kind and attentive as he was had ever been able to warm her enough to put aside her memories of Sincline's 'affection'. But more than that, she didn't want him to see her scars.

Sincline had been very careful not to leave any permanent mark in a place that might be visible on a daily basis. She supposed that some version of thanks was owed to him for that. But her back still sported the criss-crossing lashes of a riding crop, a cruel little toy he liked to use on her whenever he'd returned from a defeat at the hands of Golion. He would tie her down on her belly, naked, and strike her while lamenting that his beloved Fala whom _she_ was just a replacement for didn't accept his offers for her and her planet. How she was always forcing his hand, making him the bad-guy when if she would just let go of her silly pride long enough she would see that it was in both their kingdoms' best interest for them to marry.

All his frustration over it was vented on Amue.

And then, when his anger was spent he would untie her bleeding and whimpering form and force her to sit up and look at him. They would sit there like that for some time. Her sitting with silent tears of pain and humiliation running down her cheeks, wincing every now and again as the other slaves tended to her injuries; and he studying her face, almost as if he were looking for something that he already knew wouldn't be there.

"You look so much like her." He would say. It was his favorite thing to say, it seemed. "You have her cheekbones and her eyes. But you're not here." That also was one of his favorite lines. '_You look so much like her. But you're not her_.' And, last but not least, "You're just her replacement."

Just a replacement, a stand-in until he was able to get his hands on the real Princess Fala. And now that he had her, would he be subjecting her to the same treatment Amue had suffered? Or would he deal her worse? Because she had fought against him for so long, because she not only spurned his offers but actively fought against him as the pilot of Blue Lion, would he give to Fala ten fold what he had given to her? Or, would he finally be satisfied now that he had the woman he actually wanted rather than just a look-alike to tide him over? Amue didn't know and neither could she hazard a guess. But she was sure of one thing, no matter how Sincline treated her, they had to get Fala out of there and away from him!

The Heraclesian princess puller her hands away from her shoulders and let the warm shower water wash the soap away.

'Months…' Suzuishi had said. It would take months for him to reproduce five working distortion field generators to equip to the Lions. It would take them _months_ to rescue Fala. Amue had spent months with Sincline, she knew just how much damage could be inflicted in that time. It was something she never would wish on her worst enemy. (Well… her worst female enemy.) But Fala was her cousin and ally… and she was trapped there for _months_ while Shorty tinkered with his machines.

Finally rinsed off, the princess shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Her long damp hair dripped a sizable puddle onto the bathroom tiles as she wrapped a towel around her. Amue caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the sink and she turned to face her reflection.

"I have her cheekbones and her eyes." The Heraclesian princess muttered. She studied her eyes, big and round and blue. The looks bright and inquisitive staring back at her. Fala had that look sometimes, when there was something new but trivial to learn she gave it her full attention with twinkling passion. Amue shifted her focus to her high cheekbones that gave her face a delicate yet elegant quality. They did look a great deal alike, she and Fala, they had both noticed it the first moment they'd met, back when Heracles was still allies with Galra and Altea had been their common enemy.

But now Amue was looking for their differences. The things that separated her from Fala, made them different and individual (personalities and temperament excluded). Amue's chin was sharper, here eyebrows thicker both of which added an intensity to her features that Fala did not have. Fala's brows were thinner, her forehead higher and her chin slightly more rounded, all combining to give her face a gentler more cherub-like look. Fala _looked _sweet and kind, Amue looked fierce and independent.

"I'm not like her." She informed the mirror. "I'm just her replacement. Even… even to the Golion team, I'm just her replacement."

Amue felt the familiar pressure of tears building behind her eyes and fought the urge to cry. She removed her towel and used it to rub her face vigorously until the desire to cry had passed. Then she stepped out of her bathroom to get dressed.

She always dressed herself now. Since she had escaped from Sincline he never allowed and of her servants to help her. She had never told anyone about her time as his prisoner and she did not want anyone to see her scars. She didn't want to see pity in her maids' eyes, she did not want to over-hear gossip about it in the halls and she definitely did not want word of it to reach her little brother. Alor was still so young and innocent. Amue knew he would have to face the ugliness of the real world when he came of age and was crowned King, but from now, while the Steward was handling the local politics and she was fighting the war against Galra, for now she wanted to shelter her brother as much as was possible. And so he was aware that Sincline, whom the young prince had once idolized, had hurt her gravely but he did not know the nature or extent of that harm and he didn't need to know.

No one needed to know.

'_I might be able to help._' Ryou's words echoed through her mind.

"Ryou…" The princess whispered to the empty room as she struggled with the lacings of her bodice. (This really had been easier with other women to help her.)

Ryou was always there for her, it seemed. From the moment of her rescue to when he suggested she pilot Blue Lion in Fala's stead. He was her strong arm of support, he was her shoulder to cry on, he always had her back in a fight, she could always depend on him. But what would he think of her if he knew everything Sincline had done to her and made her do for him? Would he look at her differently? Would he think less of her? Thing she was dirty, a worthless whore?

She liked Ryou, liked him allot. In fact, Amue was rather suspicious that her feelings for the Earth-born rebel might even be love. She loved him and she wanted to be with him, to trust him wholly and fully. But she just couldn't. When he had so suddenly and awkwardly confessed his own feelings to her she had been elated. But when had tried to reciprocate she found that the words just refused to pass her lips. She couldn't tell him that she loved him too and it had hurt him. She had seen it in his eyes. He loved her and was hurt by her lack of requitement.

This train of though was interrupted suddenly by a respectful knocked on her chamber door. The princess rushed to pull on a robe over her half-clothed form before calling, "Enter."

She had expected it to be one of her maids come to offer her services in helping the princess dress already knowing the offer would be refused but needing to ask anyway or else risk being called remise in her duties. Instead, it was a castle message runner. He looked breathless and flustered as if he's run strait from the landing pad to her chanbers and he held in his hands an autoreader.

Amue's eyes focused on the tiny device.

"Message from Galra, Your Highness." The man gasped out and offered the autoreader to her.

She accepted the device and dismissed the man with a business-like, "Thank you." Before shutting the door in his face.

A message from Ryou! An update about Fala! Amue flopped down on her bed to watch and tapped the 'play' button on the machine's side.

The small holographic image of Ryou flared to life. He was only visible from the waist-up with wet hair that clung to his neck and forehead. He must have recorded this shortly after a shower, Amue thought it was almost poetic that she was watching it now also shortly after a shower. His eyes were troubled and he fidgeted in his seat before beginning…

"This is the hardest message I've ever had to send and, Kogane, I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. But there's really no way of keeping this from you, you would find out eventually when you rescued her, so… so this way you'll have time to prepare and the news will come to you from a friend."

Ryou paused, as if collecting himself for whatever he was going to say next and a sharp stone of dread sank into Amue's stomach. Fala was dead. That was it. Sincline had killed her in a fit of passion. Or maybe she wasn't dead but maimed somehow. He had never been very gentle in anything he did.

"Fala's pregnant." Ryou's voice held the empty authoritative tone of a commander addressing another commander. It was business-like, as if he did not want to add any emotion of his own to the ones that the news would produce in the one hearing it.

"_What!" _Amue dropped the autoreader in shock. "No! That's not possible! Sincline can't… its not his! Fala must have… but…"

"I realize this will come as a sock to you all and for that I'm sorry. This also throws extra complications into the war. With Sincline's child as Fala's first born, the heir of Galra will also be the heir to the throne of Altea. Even if we do manage to get Fala away from him it won't matter because in another generation Altea will be back under the Empire's control and the Alliance will have lost one of its members and possibly the Lions forever. Unless…"

Here he gave another pause. Drew a breath and began again.

"Kogane-kun, Kurogane-kun, Seido-kun and Suzuishi-kun, we're all from Japan where abortion is a common contraceptive practice. I realize that such a thing is looked down-on on Altea, in that respect they're much more like most of the West, but I think that this would be the best course of action for the war. When you rescue Fala, please urge her to agree. We cannot allow Sincline any avenue through which he could lay claim to Altea or the Lions."

Ryou's image flickered and then the message began again.

Amue switched it off and sat on her bed, thinking. Of all the news that could have come from Ryou and his on-planet militia, this was not even the last thing she could think of. This wasn't even on her list of things she could have thought would happen. Sincline was supposed to be sterile! He was supposed to be infertile! He wasn't supposed to be able to have children! That was, like, one of the major rules of biology: cross-species hybrids were infertile. It couldn't be his. If Fala was pregnant it had to be someone else's.

Amue chewed on her lip and pondered this startling new revelation.

…

(A/N: Short chapter is short.

An up-date on me if anyone's interested. I have settled into my new place in TN a little awkwardly but I'm settled. The overall tone and 'personality' of this town is so strikingly different from what I'm used to in CA that I feel awkward in my own skin (it a little like being back in high school in that respect) but my cat is loving it. She has discovered the joys of mice. Not the fake plastic and nylon mice I got for her back in LA but real country mice that get into everything! She has brought me a new mouse corpse every morning as a wake-up gift. My little huntress.)


End file.
